


Anything But A Pawn

by WhaleWishes



Series: Middle Ground [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gore, Kind of slice of life with a side of murder, Nothing but drabbles from here on bitch, depression as a common theme, will post more tags as more tags become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 41,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhaleWishes/pseuds/WhaleWishes
Summary: Not a killer, not a survivor, but something in between.A continuation of my fic "Middle Ground" but it's all drabbles and in no particular order.





	1. Always Crying

"He's crying again."

"People cry sometimes," she reminded The Entity patiently. "Especially in situations they have no control over."

The massive, black wolf paced behind her as she worked tediously, stuffing ingredients into little pouches and setting them aside.

She wanted to reach out to touch the beast the moment it had appeared, to find out if it’s fur was as soft as it looked, if it was still glossy and bright under her fingertips. The Entity was a strange being, fickle and new to her, quick to shapeshift and quick to grow impatient with any nonsense that didn’t fit it’s mold.

She would wait.

"Leatherface is _always_ crying," the wolf snarled, leaping onto the table and scattering the offerings she had been working on.

She took a deep breath, teetering on the edge of anger but reeling herself in. "Let's see if we can work out why he's always crying then. Where'd you pull him from?"

"Some shithole in Texas, that's where. He should be thanking me."

"And what was he doing when you pulled him?"

"Eating dinner. Human with a side of green beans and mashed potatoes," here the wolf's ears perked up, as if it had come to a revelation of some kind. "Do you think he’ll lighten up if he gets a little taste of home?"

"Was he alone?" She asked instead.

"Nah, he and his family were always together. The whole bunch of them would sit down every night and eat people and talk about their day. Even when beef was an option, they still went with people." Here the wolf paused, grinning, it’s bright white teeth a stark contrast against its midnight fur. “Claimed it tasted better than any meat on the market.”

She hummed, undaunted. "Do you think he misses his family?"

"Oh, definitely," the wolf said.

"There, problem solved," she said, reaching under the wolf's forepaws to continue her work. "Just give the man his family back."

The Entity was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Or -and here’s a better idea- I'll give the man a new family.”

“You can’t just give someone a new family. Families are important to humans.”

“Such sentimental creatures you are,” the wolf teased, it’s massive tail batting her hands again from her work. “But that doesn’t matter because I’ve got a plan.”

She sat back in her chair, defeated, her work scattered for a second time. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she said. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I was thinking, hmm,” here the wolf paused, as if pretending to think hard about something. “You’ve got a lot of empty rooms here and he’s got a lot of empty room in his sweet, little human heart.”

She pursed her lips. “Go on.”

“So why not, hey, you know, two crows, one stone, what do ya say?”

“I’ve been told I’m a terrible roommate,” she said, kicking her own feet up on the table. “I leave my clothes all over the floor and there’s always dishes in the sink.”

“Why don’t you just use the dishwasher?”

She dropped her feet back to the floor, leaning forward in her chair. “I have a _dishwasher_?

“No, pal, _you and Leatherface_ have a dishwasher.”

“Leatherface this, Leatherface that. You keep calling him that. What’s his real name?”

“Bubba Sawyer is what they called him. Although the nickname Leatherface wasn’t off the table, even at home.”

She wondered what kind of home he had grown up in. Did they treat him kindly?

“Now about my little idea…” The Entity trailed on.

“Listen, whatever you decide to do is fine with me,” she said. “I’ve got a feeling it was never really up to me anyway.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“How can you be sure it’ll work, though? Like I’m not his family and this will never be his home the way Texas was.”

“So negative,” The Entity tsk’d. “At this point I’m pretty sure he’ll cling to whatever scraps of humanity that we give him.”

“How cruel.”

“No,” the wolf said. “Cruel would be acknowledging his suffering and doing nothing to better his situation. But you don’t want to hear about that, do you?”

At that, she was silent, unconsciously clenching her teeth in a way that would leave her jaw aching.

“He cries so much,” The Entity uttered, it’s voice a mocking mimicry of human compassion. “Always hunched over and sobbing and alone until-“

“Alright, alright, stop.” As she rolled her eyes towards the pattering rain on the skylight, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “He probably doesn’t even remember me, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, Bubba did remember her. He came forward immediately, lifting her into his arms in what was maybe the largest and most sincere hug she had ever received.

“Oh,” she said softly, her breath all rushing out at once.

When he finally sat her back onto her feet, she took a large step back, so as to see the larger man completely. “You look...different with the mask,” she said after a moment, head cocked to one side and her fingers resting on her chin.

His smile dropped immediately. He reached up with large hands, his thick fingers self consciously tracing the mask that had not been present the first time they met around the campfire.

“No, no, it looks fine,” she retconned, reaching up to gently grasp his wrists and pull them back to his sides. “Would you like to pick a room?”

At this, the large man seem confused. He lifted one finger, tapping it to his chest gently as if to say ‘me’?

“Yeah, bud, you,” she confirmed, smiling. “The Entity thinks that you would be better off living with me now.”

The man blinked in confusion, tapping his chest again twice in bewilderment.

She continued, glancing away, suddenly awkward. She knew it wouldn’t be as easy as The Entity thought. And of course it was _her_ that would have to deal with the unpleasantness of trying to convince him that this would be good for him also. “Now I know it’s not what you’re used to. I know it’s not _home._ But it’s something.” When she turned back to face him, it was her turn to blink in confusion.

The smile that he now flashed her was wide and candid, showing all of his off-white and crooked teeth. He lifted her again into his arms, as if unable to contain his joy, swinging her in a wide circle before setting her back on her feet. His eyes were wet, fat tears rolling down the sides of his face, hidden by his strange mask.

_See? Always crying._

She staggered on her feet, the heaviness of the situation lifted as easily he had lifted her into his arms.

Maybe having a roommate would be good for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Leatherface is kind of a combination of original Leatherface and late 2000's Leatherface. Old Leatherface is just so incredibly spicy that I need him toned down to like a 5 instead of the 11 he's normally at. Think Leatherface minus the completely unapologetic horniness that was him in the second Texas Chainsaw Massacre. _That's_ my boy.
> 
> (EDIT: tbh leatherface is the love of my life and i absolutely did not do him justice with the last chapter so i updated)


	2. Skull Hunting

"Okay, so you want me to make offerings made with human skulls. That’s...I mean I guess that’s fine," she said, tapping with idle hands on the surface of the table. “Just uh, lead me to the skull stockpile, I guess.”

 _‘Skull stockpile?’_ The Entity said from within her, almost amused, a strange echoing behind her eyes that set her teeth on edge. _‘Oh no, you’ll be retrieving them yourself.’_

"And where exactly am I supposed to find any amount of human skulls?"

 _‘Oh, I know a few places you can start,’_ The Entity laughed.

 

* * *

 

Her day of skull hunting began when she stepped out of the trees of the MacMillan estate-

-and directly into a bear trap.

_'Solid start.’_

The trap was tight around her ankle but miraculously did not hurt her, clearly meant to immobilize rather than harm. She struggled against the trap hard, attempting to prise the padded jaws apart with hands that shook from fear.

She was still struggling with it some ten minutes later as the man himself wandered up, towering over her and completely eclipsing the tiny amount of moonlight she had to work by. Her eyes were huge as she looked up at him, her mouth falling open in surprise as he merely stared down at her.

He was tall and broad with odd bits of metal protruding from his shoulder, unpleasant and painful-looking even in the low light. Her eyes fell to his chest then, lingering briefly on the deep wounds that covered the skin, angry and red but entirely without blood as he hovered near her. His mask bore an unfriendly semblance of a grin, it’s teeth jagged and shark-like as his beady-eyed stare assessed her.

"Evan?" She asked slowly, trying in vain to remain calm even as the man loomed over her. At his silence, tense as it settled over her like an oppressive blanket, she began to struggle harder with the trap at her ankle, dragging her foot away from the man in an attempt to find a better angle with which to free herself.

She wondered if all those who worked for The Entity were this intense, if having them stare her down would be something she’d ever get used to.

The huge man eyed her strangely, his breathing hard behind his mask. Still he made no move to free her.

"Evan, if that’s your name, please, I'm just trying to do my job," she pleaded, pulling without any luck at the trap on her ankle. "You don’t know me but I work for The Entity, I just need any skulls you might have lying around."

The huge man was silent as he leaned over her, taking his time on deciding the best course of action. After a moment of careful consideration, he crouched in front of her, reaching forward with one strong arm to drag her closer, releasing her from the trap with ease.

”Never seen you around before. Figured this was some kind of trial at first. Sorry,” the man said, apologetic and maybe a little sheepish. His voice was a deep growl, scratchy from misuse. "Skulls, huh?"

From this close, she was just able to make out a delicate pattern of cracked skin across his shoulders and arms, like a spider's web, glowing a soft orange like fire just below his epidermis.

“Skulls, yes,” she confirmed, awkward as the huge man pulled her to her feet.

“I’ll help you out, but I’d be careful of going around telling folks who you work for. A lot of people around here aren’t fond of your boss.”

She nodded carefully, unsure of what to say.

"Now come on. Step where I step and you'll be fine."

 

* * *

 

 

Her first impression of Autohaven Wreckers was that it had probably seen better days. She avoided the scrap metal and steered clear of the old cars completely, unsure when she had last had her tetanus shot or if it even mattered now.

This realm’s inhabitant was a stealthy one, she had been told, not quite shy but hesitant in most cases to show himself.

She wondered if he already knew she was here.

There was a slow ringing in her ears then, unlike any bell she had ever heard.

He appeared before her in a wave of red and orange, like fire, though she was close enough to feel that there had been no heat. He was a tall man, towering over her, instantly leaning into her space as if curious.

"Philip, huh?” She said slowly, not entirely unsurprised when the man said nothing, merely cocking his head at her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Again when the man said nothing, she powered through.

“So, weird request: I need any skulls you might have lying around."

The man -his face a mask of indifference- cocked his head at her again, pressing ever closer.

She looked from his blank face to the weapon in his hands, an axe composed of a skull and a spine with a wicked curved blade, thin and dangerous looking like the man himself.

Slowly, she took a step back.

With long, slender fingers, the man gestured to his weapon, drawing her attention to it again.

“Oh,” she said, eyes meeting those of the skull on the end of his axe as she caught his meaning. “You can keep that one."

 

* * *

 

As she stood in the chilly rain of the Red Forest, she recalled every reason she was dreading this.

She thought of turning around, of going back and trying someone else, but she couldn't shake her logic: who better than a hunter to have nice, pristine skulls?

She knocked carefully on the massive door and waited.

"Кто ты и что хочешь?"

"Umm," her brain fizzled and died as the booming voice came from behind her. There were a lot of things she had been anticipating but a language barrier was not one of them.

"Что ж? Говорить!"

"Sorry, I don't speak any Russian. I just need skulls. Skeletons."

"Skeletons," the huge woman echoed, the last syllable at least clearly foreign in her mouth. She took a step forward and very nearly pinned her with her back to the door.

She put up her hands in surrender, attempting to edge around her and off the front porch. "Skeletons, yes. Umm," she paused, thinking. She gestured vaguely from an elk skull on the wall with it's massive antlers then back to her own head.

The Huntress continued to stare, confused and tapping her foot impatiently.

"You know," she said. "Like human skeletons. Skulls." She repeated the gesture, from her head to the elk skull then back to her own head. This time it would seem the gesturing did the trick.

The Huntress nodded and grabbed her upper arm -perhaps a little harder than intended- as she dragged her off the porch and into the house. She lifted the smaller figure easily into her arms and dropped her hard onto the huge rustic table, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her gasping for breath. The large woman disappeared then, leaving her dazed on the table for only a moment before returning with a massive axe.

"Skeleton, yes?" The Huntress said, readying her weapon.

She came back to herself immediately at the threat. She rolled off the table -somehow dodging the huge, calloused hands that grabbed for her- and landed hard on her knees. She shot to her feet immediately and sprinted for the door, narrowly dodging a hatchet on the way out.

 

* * *

  

"Max!" She shouted into the corn as she moved towards the massive, rickety house. "Max, come out, I need your help!"

She had purposely saved the Thompson House for last, fully expecting to spend more time there than in any of the other realms.

"Max!" She called again, her voice entirely without echo in the rotten field. Then Max was suddenly there, lifting her into a massive hug that had her bones creaking.

His face was a twisted mess of flesh that extended to one shoulder with small eyes that seemed to glow, barely visible behind a wall of pulled and stapled skin. The sparse patches of hair that covered the back of his head and upper back appeared greasy from lack of cleaning, as if he hadn’t had a proper bath in some time.

They had met only once before, while she was running a petty errand for The Entity, but she and Max had become fast friends, the two talking for what seemed like hours before she was called away.

Max, who had spent very nearly his entire life in isolation at the hands of his parents, had also by some miracle turned out to be the friendliest of the bunch. He longed for human contact, praise and companionship, and within her, he found all three.

Her lungs wheezed in distress, patting him gently on the back until he released her. "Max, buddy, do you have an skeletons laying around?"

"Skeletons?" The huge man echoed, unsure.

"Yeah, skeletons. You know, like bones."

"Oh yeah, I got those." He said, as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along.

His gait was odd, uneven and a little too quick, but she followed along the best she could.

“What do you need skeletons for, anyway?” Max called behind him, his voice booming excitedly across the field though it was only the two of them there.

“I only really just need the skulls.”

“Why? Makin’ somethin’?”

“Maybe,” she said. “We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Huntress is saying "Who are you and what do you want?" and then "well? speak!" I've never seen a good way to convey foreign languages in fics so let me just go ahead and apologize real quick.
> 
> Also she's making moris now, just in case that wasn't quite clear.
> 
> Anyone have anything they'd like to see? Shoot me a message, I'm not scary.
> 
> ((Edit: I'm in the process of reworking a few of these beginning chapters mostly for length but also for content!))


	3. Feeding Myers

"Why am I always so hungry when I show up here?"

"Oh, that's on purpose. It means I get to feed you, which makes you trust me quicker."

"That's..." Evan paused, frowning behind his mask. "That's very manipulative."

"Buddy, we're in Hell. Lighten up, have some Frosted Flakes."

 

* * *

 

"You want me to _what_ now?"

"Take Myers something to eat."

It had only been a couple days since The Entity had put it's little plan into motion. Michael -easily one of the least cooperative of the group- was being punished.

_Again._

This month's fun punishment? Having to eat food and function like a human.

"I'm not trying to get stabbed."

"Unfortunately, I'm not making a request."

She pursed her lips. She had met Michael Myers only twice; both times, she had gotten a stab for her troubles.

She had a feeling the third time would be no different.

 

* * *

   
She held the groceries aloft as she knocked on the door. There was a moment of tense silence as nothing happened, almost as if the entire street -abandoned as it was- knew that she was knocking on the door of the Myers house with two arms full of groceries.

She gave it a moment and then knocked again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as the door finally creaked open.

"Hey, Michael-"

The knife came down hard, cutting deep. She howled, pained, turning away and very nearly tripping as she dropped everything and bolted for the street.

It had taken Leatherface -between all the whining and fighting- almost a full hour to patch her up.

 

* * *

 

The second time she was told to bring food to Myers, it was with a promise from The Entity that there would be no stabbing involved.

She stepped up to the door confidently, knocking again. 

This time the door swung open and the huge man stepped aside to let her in.

"Okay, I didn't know what to get you so I grabbed a little of everything. Bananas, broccoli, eggs -I'm assuming you have a functioning fridge somewhere in here- some rice, chicken-" She broke off suddenly as the man moved in closer behind her.

She tensed but continued as if the man wasn't breathing down her neck. "If there's anything you really, super want, let me know and I'll go back-"

That was when the knife descended again, unforgiving as it fell between her shoulder blades.

She cried out, once again bolting for the exit.

She knew something like this would happen -and with Myers it was bound to- but she had hoped for better. 

From within her, The Entity cackled.

At least she made it through the door this time.

This time -after gentle coaxing and a few shots of some _truly_ horrible liquor- it took Bubba significantly less time to patch her up.

 

* * *

 

The third time she showed up with arms full of groceries, Michael was already waiting for her on the steps, massive knife in hand.

"Michael, I'm not doing this again."

The man in question ignored her completely, giving one final step off the porch and onto the grass.

She pursed her lips, dropping the bags on the ground.

Eggs be damned.

"You know what, Myers? You're rude," she said, stomping one foot. "You think I like bringing you groceries? You think I like being stabbed every time I come within ten feet of you? You think this is the highlight of my life?" She turned her back to him -a bold move, she would later think- and began walking the way she'd came. "How about when you get hungry enough, you know where to find me."

 

* * *

 

Three days later when Michael showed up at the door, she froze. She hadn't expected the man to actually show up at her door, quickly having pegged him as the type to starve rather than ask for any kind of help. 

He blew past her immediately, heading for the fridge.

Bubba sank low in his seat on the sofa, ineffectively hiding from the large man ravaging the fridge.

It was no secret that even a few of the other killers became on-edge around Michael. He was huge and imposing, completely unreadable with his body language and mask. He was also frighteningly unpredictable most times, more so even than The Huntress, who had already gained a reputation of her own.

When the man blew benignly past her a second time -box of cereal in hand- Bubba relaxed, turning away politely.

 

* * *

 

"Heard you've been feeding Myers," Evan said, not bothering to lower his book as she walked in.

"I do as I'm told," she said, deadpan. 

"We want in."

" _Who_ wants in?"

Evan hummed. "Most of us."

 She sighed heavily, plopping down on the other end of the sofa. "You know this is supposed to be punishment, right?"

Evan snorted. "Some punishment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired of poking at this chapter, just take it.
> 
> Also I imagine that the killers don't normally eat when they're in their particular realms. Like I feel like The Entity would find eating inefficient so they'd just cut it out completely along with other bodily functions. So after not having to eat for so long, suddenly having to do it would be terrible, especially for Michael Myers the super efficient murder machine.
> 
> Also also why wouldn't Leatherface be good at stitches? Have you seen the man's work? It's pretty solid.


	4. Survivors

The first thing that threw her off her game was that the survivors had no memory of her.

They didn't remember her showing up or her killing herself or her being taken away by The Entity.

"Listen, I know this sucks-"

"Yeah that's a _hell_ of an understatement coming from someone who has no idea-"

"-but I'm trying to make it less awful. A cage with nice things is still a cage, sure, but don't you miss sleeping? Eating? Don't you guys miss the rain?"

The group glanced cautiously between each other.

"Claudette," she started confidently. "Wouldn't you like to have a garden again? I could give you space and seeds and everything you could ever need. You could grow your own plants for offerings!" She gave a careful pause before continuing. "And Meg, I could give you a place to run again -a nice, big track where you could run as often as you want."

Meg pursed her lips but said nothing.

"I could give you space to breathe. No more of this stuffy campfire bullshit. I could give you beds! And showers! All I'm asking is for a little trust and cooperation."

"And why should we trust you?" Nea said, stepping forward with clenched fists.

"Have you not been listening to me? I can give you showers and beds! I can't take away the trials but I can make your lives outside of them less miserable."

'Listen, I've been in your shoes,' she wanted to say but found herself physically unable to.

_Don't give them ideas._

"Could we see the sun again?" One voice asked.

"Buddy, I could give you the sun. I could give you seasons. I could give you wind and rain and snow. It could be just like it is out there, in the real world."

"But it's not _out there_ ," Nea said, unrelenting. "It's not the real world."

"Listen, it's fucked up what's happening here. The trials are fucked up. _Being trapped here_ is fucked up. I know that all of you had lives outside of here, lives you can't get back, lives that I can't give back to you. And I'm sorry but I only have so much power."

 

* * *

 

  
The result was a nice, craftsman style home with a track for Meg and a garden for Claudette. The house had a full bar and a full fridge, along with a fully stocked kitchen unlike anything they'd ever seen. The main room was packed with books and CDs and games, everything needed to keep a group of adults occupied for however long. It was three to a bedroom -with the exception of Jake's tree house- something that was sure to change as The Entity inevitably brought others in.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you need me," she said, pressing an item into Dwight's hand as she passed. "That goes for anyone."

Dwight looked down at the quarter in his hand and frowned, confused. "This...is a quarter."

"It sure is, buddy. Just give it a flip and I'll be here."

"Sure, that makes perfect sense," Dwight said in a voice that suggested her words made zero sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All suggestions are welcome. Feel free to leave comments, I read them all.


	5. The Nurse

When she arrived in front of the survivor house in her sleep shorts, she grunted irritably, blinking sleep from her eyes and pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. She climbed the steps, barefoot, before twisting the handle and letting herself in.

"What," she said, glancing sharply at Dwight when he finally showed.

"Sorry," Dwight said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head. "I just thought...it was daylight here so it'd be daylight wherever you were."

It _was_ daytime where she was, but there was nothing wrong with a little midday nap.

She didn't bother saying so, allowing the man to squirm. 

Maybe The Entity was rubbing off on her.

"Something is wrong with Quentin," he said finally, leading her out of the foyer. "he's been missing sleep again."

When she stepped into the shared room and Quentin looked up at her with tired eyes, she knew it had at least been a couple of days.

"Quentin, we talked about this, man. You're safe here, I promise."

"It's not about that" Quentin said from his place, perched on the chair in the corner. "It's this place. It just never ends. We come back from a trial, bloody and exhausted, take a few days off and then what? Back to the trials again? It's the same thing over and over and over and It's like why bother, you know? What's _really_ making us do this?"

 _'Shut this down immediately,'_ The Entity hissed sharply.

"Quentin, buddy-" she started.

_'Take his place.'_

"- _what_."

"What?" Quentin asked, confused.

"Sorry, just a minute, you guys."

 She stepped out, quickly closing the door behind her.

_'Listen, the survivor needs a break before he starts pulling the same shit you did. You're going to take his place.'_

"His name is Quentin."

_'It doesn't matter what his name is. I'll be damned if I'm going to let it impact my trials.'_

"I'm sure there are other ways to help without volunteering to take his place in the next trial."

_'But that's what you're going to do anyway; take his place.'_

 When she stepped back inside, the pair was still watching her strangely. 

"Quentin, I'm going to take your place in the upcoming trial."

The boy frowned, confused. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you need rest and it's the right thing to do," she said.

'Because The Entity says so and because I have no choice,' she thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She knew it was going to be a hell of a trial when she heard the telltale shriek of the nurse.

Sally hated her more than she hated any of the survivors. She had worked closely with the mentally ill for years, giving it her all and getting shit in return, something she never forgot, even here. 

The nurse had found and pursued her immediately, completely bypassing the other two survivors on the generator with her.

She ran and ran, dodging hits to the best of her ability.

Not bad for her first real trial.

When she met up with Meg later -the nurse had to be playing with her at this point, she was sure- she was exhausted and in pain, aching from deep, nasty cuts along both arms.

"Sorry I can't do more," Meg said as she patched her up the best she could. "Just keep dodging."

"You know, normally I'm the one that puts the items in the chest for you guys." 

"With you working this closely with the trials, it's criminal that you've never been in one," Meg scowled, clearly displeased she had been working on the trials at all. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad you were finally getting a taste."

'Oh, I have been in a few,' she tried to say but couldn't, The Entity snapping her mouth shut so hard, her teeth clicked together.

"I agree," she managed instead, mouth aching.

That was when the ghostly specter that was the nurse turned the corner again.

The nurse spotted her with a shriek, extending one sickly, pale hand and then vanishing, reappearing only a second later much closer than before.

She took off.

When she felt cold, bony hands close around her throat, she struggled hard. She knew what this was, knew that she made the offering to allow this to happen, but still she struggled. She scratched and clawed, tearing at the nurse's arms, shoulders, anything she could get to. 

It was to no avail.

 

* * *

 

 

When the survivors went back to their own home, they were completely healed of injuries, able to shed the bloodshed of the trials like a heavy winter coat.

When she arrived home later, covered in blood and unable to speak, with a fresh ring of bruises around her neck, it was no surprise that Bubba fussed over her.

She slapped his hands away gently but allowed him to usher her into the house. 

"Things are already so bleak for the survivors," she rasped later, when only The Entity could hear her. "Why even bother letting me make things better for them?"

"Oh, easy," The Entity laughed. "The happier they are outside the trials, the more miserable they are inside. It's win/win really; you get your peace of mind and I get everything else."

It wasn't the nice answer she was looking for, but it was an answer nevertheless.

 


	6. A Max Chapter

"I'm having a problem with The Hillbilly."

"Max?" she said, lowering her book. "What kind of problem could Max possibly cause?"

"See for yourself."

The problem in question was with his recent performances in the trials.

Unfortunate really.

The man in question swung his mallet hard, narrowly missing a survivor.

"Accidents happen," she said patiently.

The Entity grunted. "Keep watching."

He stood, revving his chainsaw for a solid thirty seconds before sprinting forward recklessly-

-only to collide hard with a wall of cars and scrap.

"There wasn't even anyone there! He's clearly not taking this seriously."

She hummed, "I see."

"He's missing with his chainsaw on purpose, missing swings on purpose...it's like he's dragging things out." The Entity -taking the form of a massive, black snake draped across her shoulders- hissed, turning its head from The Hillbilly to her and then back again. "He's making mistakes on purpose and it's causing less bloodshed in the trials."

"If I were him, I'd probably drag it out, too."

The Entity flicked its tongue idly, the perfect picture of inhuman confusion. "Explain."

"I mean, I may be reaching here, but it really could be that hes trying to drag it out. Like, the dude spends his whole life in isolation, finally breaks free, and then you put him right back where you found him when you're done with him? What a miserable existence that must be."

"And what do you propose?"

"Give him a roommate or something. Give him someone that gives a shit about him," here she paused, shrugging. "It worked for Bubba, didn't it?"

The Entity hummed, turning back to the trial.

 

* * *

 

  
When Max showed up later that day with a small, cloth bag in hand, she instantly stepped aside to let him in.

"House rules are pretty simple; shoes off at the door, no weapons inside, and if you want to roughhouse, take it out on the lawn," she said as she proceeded to give the laziest tour in history.

Max nodded, dumbstruck at the massive wall of windows that covered the entire side of the huge cabin she called home.

He'd never seen so much bright, open space in one room before.

"Your room is back here...but if you hate it, there are two other ones to choose from."

It was a lovely room, ground level, with massive windows that dominated two of the four walls. In the center against the windows, a bed, neatly made and covered with handmade pillows.

"You don't have to keep all the pillows, if you don't want to. Bubba keeps sewing them and I'm running out of places to keep them."

He stood, shock still and silent.

"And I know it's probably way too many windows," she shrugged awkwardly, as if unsure what to say in his silence. "I just didn't want you to feel trapped."

He set his bag down on the bed but made no other effort to explore the room.

"And you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

At this he turned, whirling around to face her. "Of course I want to stay!"

She smiled softly. "I just...I know Coldwind Farm was a rough place for you. You didn't deserve what you got by a long shot. I just don't want this place to be another Coldwind for you."

"You don't regret The Entity moving me here?"

She felt her heart clench. "Max, I was the one that suggested moving you in."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Because you were alone and you didn't deserve that."

Max scowled. "So you felt sorry for me."

She shook her head slowly. "No, no, not at all. I just felt like you deserved better."

He stared at her, confused. "You keep saying that. I don't understand."

Now it was her turn to be confused. "That you deserve better? I'm saying you were dealt a shitty hand in life and you didn't deserve that. And now you're here and you don't deserve that either. But we're all here together and the least I can do is try to make that less terrible for you."

Max frowned, as if trying to understand something puzzling.

She grasped one of his huge hands, startling him. "Max, I don't regret moving you in and I don't regret knowing you. At this point, my biggest Max-related regret was not being there to put the chainsaw in your hands that day you killed your parents."

Max threw his arms around her in a crushing hug, lifting her easily off the ground.

She squeezed back as hard as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired of poking at this chapter just take it


	7. Touch

Everything had been all quiet at home until about noon.

That was the time that Michael showed up.

He stormed through the door, as if furious to be there, as if somehow it was her fault that he was being punished _again_ for God knows what.

When he grabbed onto the back of her neck, there was a jolt and then suddenly, Michael was choking, drowning in emotions he hadn't felt since he was a child. Fear as he held her down, hand pressed harshly to the back of her neck. Past the fear, irritation as her own emotions were bounced back at her, Michael having been a blank state since long before he was brought here.

He ground her face into the hard wood of the coffee table unkindly, his breath coming out a rush beneath his mask as she howled in anger, furious.

Her touch telepathy had been developed by The Entity as a means to assist those that couldn't communicate with her vocally. 

She could tell when Phillip was desperate for something sweet to eat, or when Anna -even through the language barrier- needed more game to hunt to occupy her time.

It wasn't difficult to imagine that Michael was out of the loop considering the unseemly way he had found out about her new ability.

Michael huffed behind his mask, a strange sound, as Bubba watched from across the room, torn between his desire to help and his fear of Michael.

Max was the opposite, bounding over and grabbing the back of Michael's coveralls so hard, she swore she heard the fabric tear. He jerked hard, sending Myers staggering away to catch himself on the wall.

Max stood between the two, pulling himself up to his full height as Bubba stepped in, dragging her -a little harder than intended- to her feet.

Then as quickly as it had began, it was over. with Michael giving the trio a wide berth as he made his exit.

 

* * *

 

 "Heard you had some trouble with Myers."

"Usually."

Evan snorted. "What did he do this time?"

"It was the touch telepathy, I think. Maybe he wants to feel things."

"Feel things," Evan echoed.

"You know like...okay, so at first I was scared because well, that's just how it is with Myers. Then I was really mad and it was like...he started breathing hard."

"Do you think he liked it?" Evan asked, leaning in a little closer.

"He had to have, right? He's not an idiot. If he hated it, he would have taken his hands off immediately."

"Unless it was an electric fence type of situation."

"I'm sorry, a what?" 

"You know, like when you grab an electric fence and can't let go. Maybe he couldn't."

 

* * *

 

When she stepped out of the bathroom and began toweling her hair, she almost overlooked the figure of a man standing in the corner.

Almost.

She panicked, fumbling for the light switch even as Michael stepped closer.

"Michael, stop," she said, as calmly as she could, both hands raised in surrender. She extended a hand to him slowly, waiting patiently as he moved in closer.

He hesitated.

"You want to feel, right?"

Michael Myers had not wanted to feel in a very long time.

He bypassed her outstretched hand completely, wrapping long, pale fingers around her wrist instead.

The first thing he felt was the exhaustion as it weighed heavy on her. Then came the fear, light as it skittered, just out of reach below the surface. Then came the pain as he squeezed her wrist too hard, intentionally.

From him, she felt...nothing.

Before, she had at least felt her own emotions bounced back at her but now she felt nothing, as if her feelings were slipping past the surface of a dark lake and disappearing beneath.

"Is it helping?"

The man predictably said nothing.

"You know you don't have to hide all the time."

Michael was silent as he rode this new, swirling wave of emotion. Calmness then with a bubbling anxiety that made him drop her wrist suddenly.

"Sorry. Not hide in the sense that I think you're afraid or something."

Again, Michael said nothing.

"It's just sometimes it's good to get out of the house. If you ever need a place to go, my workshop is always unlocked."

He lifted a hand to his mask, putting one finger to his lips and shushing her soundlessly.

"Oh, sure sure, gotcha." She paused, practically vibrating with unspent energy. "It's just that I talk when I'm nervous and I'm a little nervous right now."

Michael grabbed her wrist again before throwing it back down. Frustrated, he turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured in the dark, reaching out with one hand and grabbing onto his sleeve. She realized what she'd done immediately, releasing her grip and taking a cautious step backwards. "Sorry...is it helping, at least?"

As if choosing to ignore what she'd just done, he gave a curt nod.

She offered her wrist again, more confidently, and was pleased when he took it.

This time he was flooded with her own brand of happiness, no doubt toned down to make it more bearable. It was blooming sunflowers and a soft sea breeze, hot cocoa and a warm blanket on a rainy day. He was amazed almost, by how vivid everything seemed, by how easily she painted a picture with just a smattering of emotions.

Michael Myers had not wanted to feel in a very long time.


	8. An Accident

She did poorly with loud noises.

She did poorly with slammed doors and breaking glass and chair legs scraped too quickly against wooden floors.

It had been an accident, she knew; accidents happen. And looking back now, she supposed she should have known better than to reach for him like that.

It had be a harsh trial, she judged, as Bubba stepped inside the house. He was tense, stiff, hands clenched tightly at his sides. His shirt was ripped and bloody, a painful-looking wound oozing steadily at his shoulder.

She'd sit him down and stitch the large man up, same as any other time he came back wounded from a trial, same as he'd do for her.

"Ahh, that doesn't look so great, bud. Let me see," she said calmly, approaching him from behind. She placed a hand gently beside the wound-

-and was immediately cracked hard across the face with an elbow.

It had to be reflex, she knew, that after everything Bubba wouldn't intentionally hurt her. But as she staggered backwards and over the coffee table to land flat on the floor, she felt the tears well up regardless.

There was a flash of something, fear and memories that were suddenly on her, twisting with sharp unforgiving fingers into her stomach.

The huge man turned quickly and grabbed for her with a wheeze of distress, of apology, but she was already up, bolting for the door as quickly as her legs could carry her.

She didn't look back as she left the front porch and darted for the woods, barefoot and bleeding, even as the large man's heavy footfalls sounded behind.

 

* * *

 

 

Later when she had calmed down, she recalled how quickly everything had gone to shit.

"And what makes it extra stupid is that I  _knew_ it was an accident! But when I hit the floor and he turned around and grabbed for me, my body was moving before I knew what was happening. Poor guy is probably beating himself up right now."

Evan gave a 'hmmm', passing the bottle back to her. "So what are you doing here?"

"Where else was I supposed to go, Evan? Think I should just stroll over to Lery's and have a chat with Herman? Maybe I can pick up a lobotomy while I'm there. Or how about I skip on over to Bedham? I'm sure Krueger is dying to hear about my woes." She moved to stand, agitated, but was dragged back down easily by Evan.

"Stop, stop getting so worked up, I didn't mean it like that. I meant if you know he's upset, why aren't you going back?"

She looked down at her shoes -borrowed and much too large- and took a shallow swig from the bottle, considering. "Guess I just needed some time to clear my head."

Evan laughed, a booming sound, as he tapped his fingers lightly to the bottle in her hand. "And how's that going for you?"

"Fuzzier than before," she frowned.

 

* * *

 

 

When she finally made it back onto her own property, it was raining.

Of course it was.

She thought she would at least make it to the house before the confrontation. But as soon as she emerged from the tree line, the front door was thrown open and he was running out to meet her.

Her first thought was that she absolutely did not want to be doing this right now. Her second, was that she should have just crashed at Evan's place instead.

He threw his arms around her, a broken, hiccuping sob pouring from his throat.

"Stop crying, it's okay, I know you didn't mean it."

The man continued to wail, pulling her tighter to his chest and lifting her easily off the ground without thinking.

She had only been gone a few hours -she would find out later that for Bubba, it had been days- but the silence of the house and the weight of what he'd done had already taken it's toll.

She imagined him having one of his usual tantrums, pulling at his hair or banging his fists against his head.

He squeezed tighter.

She felt queasy as she freed one hand, gently patting him on the shoulder. "Hey, put me down, alright? Let's get out of the rain."

There was no indication that he had heard her as he continued to sob.

"Hey!" She barked, finally catching his attention. "I'm not mad, okay? Put me down."

He lowered her back to her feet slowly, nodding. The man sniffled, running his broad forearm across his eyes and wiping both rain and tears from his face.

"I shouldn't have ran, I didn't mean to." She frowned deeply, apologetic. "I'm not scared of you. I just-"

_You reminded me of someone._

"I just had some shit to work through."

He gave a slow nod, frowning beneath his mask, as if understanding suddenly what it was about the situation that sent her running.

She kept her hand on his as they made their way back to the house, a small, comforting beacon in the rainy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some angst helllllllll yeah B)
> 
> Also she always seems to be talking to Evan because the options for conversation are so limited here. Like I headcannon very few of the killers as actually being able to speak.
> 
> Also also, feel free to send chapter requests for things you'd like to see! Characters? Situations? I'm running low on ideas and I'm 100% NOT SCARY.


	9. Amanda

The first time she walked into the meat packing plant, she found herself hunched over, vomiting immediately.

It smelled so strongly of blood and rot that her stomach churned. She had smelled death before, sure, a slaughterhouse at Coldwind or the sick horse at Father Campbell's chapel but she had never smelled anything like this.

She wondered what kind of person would hang out here voluntarily.

On the tables were pictures, expertly drawn, of contraptions she couldn't begin to explain. The tables were messy, framed with the flickering light of multiple desk lamps with a single, solitary trap in the middle.

"Are you the one that's been vomiting on everything?"

She turned quickly, startled momentarily, before elapsing immediately into her spiel. "Hi, I don't think we've met. I work for-"

"I know who you are."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're the one that killed herself over and over again until you got promoted."

She frowned, uncomfortable. Her past wasn't something that was talked about, among survivors or otherwise. She turned, opting to change the subject immediately. "Did you draw these?"

Amanda, predictably, ignored her, moving around to the other side of the table silently and going about her business.

"This is some really interesting engineer work," she said, approaching one of the traps on the table and hovering one hand over it, as if afraid to touch. "How long have you been making stuff like this?"

The woman continued to give her the cold-shoulder.

After a few moments of standing in silence, she shrugged, feigning nonchalance and turning on her heel. "Alright, I suppose just call me if you need anything,"

"More tools."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said 'more tools'." Amanda said a little louder than before, impatient. She paused, scrubbing hard at her eyes. "I just need more tools."

"Are you...okay?"

Amanda slammed her hand down on the table hard, the suddenness causing her to jump. "Of course I'm not okay! I'm completely lost! I was lost before John and now I'm lost again. I thought I had everything figured out but now I'm here and nothing makes sense."

She shifted, uncomfortable. "No one wants to be here," she offered weakly.

"Where is 'here' anyway? I know that I'm here because I did terrible things. I'm here because I didn't play by the rules. But what about you? What did you do?"

She frowned deeply.

"You wanna know what I think? I think you're here because you didn't cherish your life."

"Ah," she said slowly, cautiously, unsure if rocking the boat was the correct choice in this particular situation.

She thought briefly of who she was before, before the fog had taken her. She thought of days spent in bed, weeks of unwashed hair, unanswered texts.

For her, life wasn't always a gift to be cherished.

Amanda clenched her fists at her side, a far-off look in her eye. "And now _I'm_ trapped here, in this place, with all these video tapes of him, of John, and no way to carry on his work. I was supposed to be his immortality. These traps are all I have, these traps are all I _can_ have. John's life work has been reduced to a one dimensional party trick and there's nothing I can do about it."

She looked on quietly, frowning.

"So, all I can do...is pour myself into my work and build these contraptions over and over again knowing that nothing is going to change. And you have the nerve to ask me if I'm okay?"

She felt a pang of sympathy even as she caught the brunt end of Amanda's anger.

As she left the labyrinth that was the meat packing plant, she was sure she heard a choked off sob echoing from somewhere inside the huge building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Amanda is too smart for this place, too self aware. I don't know how well she's going to do here."

"She'll adjust, same as the others," The Entity said, completely indifferent.

"Game to hunt for Anna, a family for Bubba and Max, and for Amanda...nothing. I don't know what I could possibly do to make this less miserable for her."

"Then why bother trying?"

She frowned, turning away.

She'd think of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (She might never think of something.)
> 
> Hardest chapter so far by a ton. Amanda is hard to write for and this chapter was a nightmare.
> 
> Also big huge thank you to my friend Nick who has so kindly been reading and beta-ing my work from the very beginning. I'm grateful and none of this would be possible without him!


	10. Nightmares

Quentin awoke with a start, curly brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He panted in the dark, eyes wild, as he propelled himself out of bed.

"I want you to stop my nightmares. Please." Quentin rasped to her later, one hand fisted in his hair. "They've been playing in my head on repeat for weeks."

"Weeks?" She echoed. "Why did it take you so long to ask for help?"

"Because I don't trust you!" He shouted, suddenly having reached his boiling point. "Because you spend most of your time associating with the enemy and then you come back and try to talk to us like people instead of the cattle that we are!"

"Ah," she said, frowning and rising to her feet. It made sense that the survivors wouldn't like her very much considering how they had very clearly drawn the short straw. "How about I go find out what's causing your nightmares, Quentin?"

 

* * *

 

   
"Yo, Krueger!"

Badham Preschool -as usual- was cold. A mess of mold and children's drawings, water-stained and torn, covered the peeling walls. On the floor was a scattering of leaves blown in from the building's broken windows, the tiles old and falling apart, crunching beneath even the most cautious feet.

She shuffled uneasily down the hall -avoiding a massive hole in the floor- and soon found herself in a room with toppled children's furniture and an old chalkboard, unused for a very long time.

"Freddy!" She yelled again, waiting for the soft, ominous singing of long dead children.

She tipped a small chair back into an upright position before cautiously siting down. She folded her arms, resting her head atop them on a small table and closed her eyes. Suddenly, as if on cue, she began to hear it, singing children as they circled her.

She began to doze.

When she opened her eyes again, it was as if all the light had faded out of the world. The building was dark despite the smashed-out windows, darker now that she was in the dream world. Around her floated strange particles and she reached out to touch one on reflex, unsurprised when her hand passed completely through it.

Across from her -comically in a child's chair of his own- sat Freddy.

"Welcome to-"

"Quentin's been having nightmares again," she cut him off immediately.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Krueger."

From his place sprawled on his own tiny chair, the man chuckled, swishing his claws together. "I got nothing to do with it, sweetheart."

"Yeah, that's super believable coming from the guy that makes nightmares."

"Who, me?" He tilted his hat down and over his eyes, grin still completely exposed beneath the brim. "Maybe little Quentin could benefit from some therapy."

"I think he'd do better if you just left him the hell alone."

He sat up finally, adjusting his hat so he could look her in the eye. "Listen. Between me and you, I've been trying to reach those survivors for ages with no luck. I couldn't get to the kid even if I wanted to."

She frowned. "So you're really not doing it?"

Freddy grinned. "What reason would I have to lie to you?"

"I don't know, for funsies?"

"Get out of my face," Freddy laughed, snapping his fingers and sending her back to the waking world.

 

* * *

 

When she arrived back at the survivor house, it was with a heavy verdict.

"Quentin, buddy, I think you have PTSD."

"What?"

"PTSD. It's like where-"

"I know what PTSD is!" Quentin shouted, frustrated.

"I just...listen. I'm no doctor but it kind of fits. These dreams you've been having, you've had them before, right?"

"I mean yes, but-"

"Like the exact same dreams?"

"Yes," Quentin snapped again.

She thought about placing a comforting hand on his shoulder but quickly reconsidered, his words from earlier echoing in her head.

"You know, I talked to your roommates. The symptoms are there. The isolation, the agitation, the hypervigilance..." She paused briefly, watching as his expression shifted hesitantly from irritation to cautious understanding. "Freddy can't get you here, Quentin. I'm fairly certain that what's been happening with your dreams has been brought on by past trauma."

"But how did you-"

"I've spent a lot of time self-diagnosing, if we're being honest with each other." She paused, frowning, before reaching to her side and picking up a small gift bag. The bag was covered in glitter, so much so that some had shaken loose and pooled around the bottom of the bag as it sat on the carpet.

"But here," she said, passing the bag to Quentin. "I got you this,"

From out of the bag, Quentin pulled out a small dreamcatcher.

"I know it's not much, but in here, things have as much power as you choose to give them."

That night, dreamcatcher placed carefully above his bed, Quentin slept better than he had in years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please imagine old Freddy when reading chapters. Like I know the game he's super obviously modeled after new Krueger but new Kruger is like, a pedophile and I can't roll with that. Plus his jokes aren't as good as old Krueger. Or maybe it's the humorless delivery? Either way I don't fuck with new Freddy.


	11. Dakotah

"Anna!" She called, toting a massive bag of potatoes over one shoulder as she entered the cabin.

She hefted the bag onto the table -no easy task- and then stood straight, cracking her back. "Anna," she called again leaning with elbows on the table and waiting for a moment before shrugging.

Maybe she was on a hunt.

On her way out -not the usual way she entered or exited the massive cabin- she came very close to missing child huddled in the corner beside one of the many open doorways.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. What are you doing here?"

"I heard you calling for her. She's gone," the girl whispered, tucking herself further into her corner and pulling her tattered blanket up to her chin. "I think I've been kidnapped."

She was surrounded by bones, small bones, bones that told a very unfortunate story of their own.

"Oh wow, we need to get you out of here right now," she said gently pulling the child to her feet and working with deft hands to free her from the rope that bound her. "I know for a fact Anna isn't going to let you just walk out of here."

The girl was small, dressed in short, floral overalls and mismatched sneakers. Her eyes seemed huge as they looked up at her, cheeks dirty and streaked with tears, the girl stood a full head shorter than her. She shivered, trying and failing to pull the small blanket around her shoulders.

"You cold?" She asked, already in the process of pulling her own sweater over her head and passing it to the girl. Even with candles burning sporadically around the house, the Red Forest was a chilly place, something she knew had taken its toll on children in the past.

As the girl pulled the item of clothing over her head, a hand was pressed to her upper back, gently ushering her towards the Red Forest's exit.

 

* * *

 

"You really just...made the decision to give her a kid. You -who will sometimes ask me if two days of rain in a row is too many- really went ahead and made the decision to give Anna an entire human being without consulting me."

"I still don't see the problem here," The entity said, taking the form of a small, black fox as it watched her with red eyes and small, sharp teeth.

"People don't belong to people. And what happens when the kid gets sick and Anna completely falls apart? It's happened before! The Red Forest isn't equipped for children and I'm not equipped to handle the fall out when this kid gets sick like all the others."

"I can hear you, you know," the kid piped up.

"I know you can, sorry."

"My name is Dakotah. Have I been kidnapped?"

She hesitated. "I mean...technically yeah, but you're not in any danger and we're going to put you back where we found you as soon as we can." She paused, "Nice to meet you, Dakotah."

Turning to consult the lithe, black fox as it stalked around the pair, she opened her mouth to speak again. "Where did you even pull her from?"

The Entity made a strange gesture, reminiscent of a shrug.

"Kid, where are you from?" She asked outright, turning away from The Entity and putting her focus on Dakotah.

"Minnesota."

"You got a family in Minnesota?"

"Yes."

"Do they love you?"

"Of course!" The child said immediately, growing impatient with the barrage of questions.

"Cool, so you literally just snatched a random kid. Like out of all the kids you could have snatched, you snatched one from Minnesota with a loving family."

 

* * *

 

"So, are you still at that age where coloring is fun?"

"No, I hate coloring."

"Right, cool," she said, climbing the stairs and knocking patiently.

"Here, I need you to watch this," she said immediately as Dwight opened the door.

"This...is a child," he said, sounding as confused as any other time she asked him to do anything.

"I know, man, I've been dealing with her all morning."

"I can still hear you."

"I know you can, sorry." She turned again to Dwight, "listen, there was a mix-up with The Entity and she absolutely can't stay at my place. We're sending her back as soon as we can but we're trying to figure out the best way to do it."

"In the mean time, though," she pressed a hand to the child's upper back, ushering her forward gently. "This is Dakotah. She's 8, from Minnesota, and she can hear every word you say. She's too old and cool for coloring books but likes regular books. Please keep her busy for me."

 

* * *

 

"I mean obviously, we'd have to wipe her memory, right?" She said, pacing the length of the porch as The Entity watched.

"Why?"

"Because if she goes back talking about a giant woman with hatchets and a tornado of crows, they're going to lock her up, that's why."

"And why should I send her back at all?"

She frowned. "She has to go back."

"And if she doesn't? What's honestly the worst that can happen?"

"Everything," she howled, frustrated. "She's eight! She's got her whole life ahead of her!"

"Fine," The Entity said, swishing it's tail at her. "I'll send her back."

"Like where you found her?"

"Like where I found her," The Entity confirmed.

"She was safe when you found her, right? Not playing in traffic or anything?"

"Yes, yes, I'm going to put her back where I found her safely," The Entity groaned. "God, you're overthinking this."

 

* * *

 

"She just disappeared!" Dwight exclaimed, panicked. "Like I turned my back for five seconds to get her some Fruit Loops and then I turned back around and she was gone!"

"Relax, man, The Entity just sent her back."

"I didn't lose her?"

"No."

"She didn't just wander off?"

"Dwight, please."

She just hoped that wherever Dakotah was, she was doing well.

 

* * *

  

Safely back at home, her memory of where she'd been fuzzy, Dakotah began to research. Strange disappearances, crows, powerful and dark entities...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter are supposed to be read together so I thought why not post them together? I mean I had to split them up for length but you can consider them the same stupid long (very experimental) chapter.
> 
> Anna's backstory with children? Not great and kind of upsetting.


	12. Dakotah (The Fallout)

When the first hatchet sailed past her ear, she was doing dishes.

Mundane tasks, even in hell.

She had been expecting this, facing the Huntress' wrath at the cost of sending Dakotah home. She just hadn't quite expected it to be this soon and certainly not while she was up to her elbows in suds.

"Вы!" The Huntress shouted, retrieving another hatchet from her belt.

 _'You,'_ The Entity translated lazily, unfurling slowly in her head like a massive snake.

"We can talk about this!"

Her mind raced. If she could get her hands on Anna, she could explain everything through the bond. She glanced over at her raised hatchet and bared teeth and gauged quickly that getting close was completely out of the question if she wanted to keep her head.

Thinking quickly, she flipped the dining room table and ducked behind it, creating a cascade of broken glass as dishes clattered to the floor. The table was thick, oak, but she knew she only had until The Huntress decided to step around the mess.

A hatchet was thrown, embedding deep into the wood on one side and splintering through the table beside her head.

Three more.

She rolled to her knees, almost slipping on socked feet, and clamored for the stairs.

"MAX! BUBBA!" She yelled, ducking under a hatchet that sailed over her head.

Two.

She climbed the stairs on all fours like an animal, quickly reaching the top and pounding at the attic door. "Bubba!" She called again, turning just in time to see The Huntress arriving at the top of the stairs.

She felt pressure eased at her back -the door opening- and quickly scrambled inside, slamming the door behind her so hard it rattled the frame.

The Huntress howled in anger, sinking her hatchet in the door over and over. "Где вы положили ребенка?" She roared.

"I don't know what you're saying, please calm down!" She shouted through the door.

 _'She wants to know what you did with the kid,'_ The Entity laughed, thoroughly reveling in the chaos that was unfolding. _'She seems really angry.'_

Behind her, Bubba was panicking.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, it'll be okay," she said, hoping her voice -frayed as it was- was enough to soothe the giant man. "She's after me, not you."

Before them, the door had splintered until there was a massive hole in the middle and The Huntress peered through, releasing another scream of fury that sent Bubba skittering to a corner.

From the hole in the door came another hatchet, well aimed as it grazed her cheek and blew past her head, embedding itself in the wall some fifteen feet back.

One hatchet left.

A massive forearm worked its way through the hole, struggling with the doorknob.

It was at this point that she thought she should probably run.

The hand retreated and the door swung open on it's hinges. As the Huntress entered the room -the floor now a mess of splinters and sawdust- she was throwing the window open.

She was in the process of scrabbling through the window onto the roof when The Huntress grabbed her by her shirt, hauling her back inside and throwing her to the floor.

She was still screaming when the hatchet buried itself in her skull.

Zero.

 

* * *

 

  
When she came to some time later, it was with her entire front caked with blood.

She blinked against the dried blood on her eyelids, vision impaired completely on one side as she offered Anna her hand.

The Huntress scowled beneath her mask before taking the offered hand, a little harder than was necessary.

The bond was filled with Dakotah, cold and scared, sniffling against the only threadbare blanket she had been given. It showed her in her abysmal corner, surrounded by bones.

The Huntress frowned beneath her mask, lips turned downward.

Then came hope, safety, warmth. Images of Dakotah being well-cared for, images of Dakotah back at home, images of Dakotah safe and warm.

"We had to send her back, I'm sorry."

Anna made a sound as if irritated before dropping her hand. "Я понимаю," she said slowly, rising to her feet and making for the stairs. She didn't sound pleased, like she was still ready to tear her apart even with the stern reality check, but the fact that she was leaving without any more bloodshed was a blessing in itself.

 

* * *

 

 

When she left, Bubba -still running on adrenaline from the earlier events- continued to fuss. He fussed until she followed him to the bathroom. He fussed until she let him clean her up. He fussed all the way up until he made her look in the mirror to see that one of her eyes was entirely missing.

When she saw the serious injury, her blood ran cold. The area around the wound was healed already, still smudged dark with crusted blood as she pulled her lower eyelid down to inspect it. Why hadn't The Entity just put it back?

 _'Because I have a better idea,'_ The Entity said suddenly in her ear, loud, although she knew Bubba wouldn't be able to hear it.

Later, she would head up to her workshop and find the eye. It was made of a strange glass, the iris deep red and seeming to shine even in the low light.

"But why do this when you could just fix my original eye?"

 _'Because this is more than just an eye.'_ The Entity said vaguely.

"Cool," she said before pausing. "I have no idea how to put this in."

_'We'll go over it later.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love The Huntress so much. I love the unpredictability of her and I love how tough and scary she can be. If we're being honest, the last chapter was just an excuse to write really angry Huntress. I was like 'man what would really piss her off?' and then I went from there. I have a nice chapter with her planned but for now y'all get angry Huntress. Shes saying "You!" and "Where did you put the baby?" and "I understand" in that order. I'm still trying to work out the best way to do her speech honestly.
> 
> Also in case you missed the last note, this chapter is meant to be read with the last chapter.


	13. Herman

"Herman, hey," she said edging past the pair sitting at the dining room table. "What are you doing here?"

Max looked...uncomfortable, as if itching to stand from the table and move away.

"I'm grounded, I suppose. I've been told I play too much with my food," Herman said, smile a clear indication that he had no remorse for what he'd done. His face was sans apparatus, a strange sight. "I'm not to blame, though. With so many others in the rotation, it's so rare that The Entity let's me out of my cage."

"Ah," she said eloquently, one hand on the doorknob.

"But I fear I've been put somewhere much more interesting now. I fought to get my hands on you a few trials ago, when The Nurse stepped up, but The Entity determined she was a better match for you," he paused, frowning although it never met his eyes. "And I so wanted to pick your brain."

"That's..." she started but then trailed off, unsure of what emotion she was feeling currently. "I have to leave," she said finally, having stood with her hand on the doorknob through a solid seven seconds of silence. "Offerings to make and such, you know how it is."

"Of course," the man said, grinning. "I'll be seeing you."

 

* * *

 

 

"So why aren't you doing this at your own place?"

'Because I'm terrified to be in my own home,' she didn't say, instead offering a shrug.

She blew into the stuffed envelope, passing it off to Claudette to be tied.

Claudette was a hard worker and an expert gardener, having taken to growing most of the plant offerings by herself. She tied the sachet up, tucking a small twig of Sweet William under the knot before setting it to the side.

"So what happened to your eye?" Nea asked finally, having been sitting across the table 'patiently' watching the pair work.

The eye -as it turned out- was very special indeed. It made setting up a trial a breeze -something she was grateful for- allowing her to see the auras of generators, hooks, and chests while on trial grounds. Outside of the trial, she quickly became accustomed to seeing the auras of people -even through walls- up to a certain distance, something she felt was a major breach in privacy but was powerless to stop short of removing the eye.

"I don't always get along with the killers myself, if we're being honest," she said, stuffing another envelope and passing it off.

"Who was it? Myers? I bet it was Myers."

"The Huntress, actually."

Nea laughed, entirely inappropriate for the situation. "Brutal."

Across the table, Claudette looked appalled, either at the information or Nea's blunt questions, she wasn't sure.

It wasn't until she was leaving that The Entity began to speak to her.

_'You've been going too easy on them, playing favorites,'_ The Entity said in her ear as she stepped off the porch to head back to her own house, Herman be damned.

"I hardly consider a few well-stocked toolboxes and some free offerings as playing favorites," she said

_'You're tipping the scales in favor of one party over the other. You remember our agreement, don't you?'_

 

* * *

 

The punishment in question was a throwback to the days before The Fog had taken her. It was days spent wanting to crawl out of her skin and days of isolating herself, tucked away under her bed where is was dark and quiet.

Quiet for the most part, anyway.

"You know, I could fix that brain of yours, if you wanted," Herman said, wide smile splitting his face as he leaned over to peer under the bed at her. "I've fixed a lot of brains in my day," he laughed, amused as if he was making some great joke.

"No thanks," she said slowly, pulling her knees to her chest. "The Entity does a pretty good job of balancing me out."

"And where's your entity now?" The man laughed, one hand wrapped around her ankle as he pulled her none too gently from under the bed. "Now that I've seen you spend days under this bed, I'm having doubts about The Entity's ability to care for you."

The Entity, strangely enough, was silent in her head.

"I think you should pass your treatment over to me," Herman said, still grinning as he leaned over her. He brought his hands up, hovering one on either side of her head, releasing a small jolt of electricity that left her feeling fuzzy.

"No," she said dazed, even as the doctor caressed the side of her face. "No...I think," she said but couldn't think, between the electricity and Herman being so close, she didn't have the words to say.

"You must be very special, to have been chosen even with the shenanigans you pulled. Let me take you apart and find out what makes you so special," he paused, grin ever-present, "I promise to be gentle."

"I don't think you know the meaning of 'gentle', Doctor."

The man laughed outright, rising from his position looming over her. "On the contrary, brains are delicate work."

"What about the people attached to them?"

"Ah," The Doctor said, telltale smile splitting his face. "Much less so."

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Herman, I think it would be in everyone's best interest if I just took my punishment."

_'Good answer.'_

"A shame," the man said, dragging the quilt off her bed and covering her like a corpse. "You'll let me know if you change your mind, won't you?"

"Sure," she said, although they both knew that wasn't true.

 

* * *

 

  
A few days later, Herman went back to Lery's, He left with vigor, body abuzz with electricity and unspent energy.

Finally, she relaxed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creepy Herman is my jam and apparently pretty fun to write? Who knew.


	14. The Crow

Phillip was a tall man, solitary and silent, by own his design or The Entity's, she thought it rude to ask. His skin was the color of tree bark and he blended easily with his surroundings, the most stealthy of the killers, even above Michael. He approached her rarely, for the most part accepting of his unfortunate life in The Fog, a fact that she found very sad but would never comment on.

When the man offered her his hand, long spindly fingers pointing skyward, she took it without hesitation.

The image she received was that of shaking hands, trials blurred, survivors fading into one another.

'I just need a few days,' the voice echoed in her head, strange and new, lightly accented as it rang through the bond like a bell. 'Just a few days and I'll be fine.'

 _'Can't do it,'_ The Entity would say later when she asked. _'The Wraith is next in the rotation.'_

"What if we...what if we worked something out?"

 _'Oh?'_ The Entity said, interest piqued. _'And what cards could you possibly have to lay on the table?'_

"What if I could get someone to take his place?"

_'Take it yourself.'_

She pursed her lips, frowning. "Absolutely not."

 _'Oh, obviously I'd be expecting a train wreck of a trial,'_  The Entity laughed in her ear, _'but everyone has to start somewhere, right?'_

"I'd rather not start at all," she said.

_'Just think about it...your buddy Phillip could really use a few days off, couldn't he?'_

 

* * *

 

"Why is this cloak so long?"

 _'Because you're short,'_ The Entity said matter-of-factly. _'You'll be taller so the survivors are actually scared of you.'_

"And my power is what?"

_'You're slow but you've got no terror radius.'_

"Okay, but what's my motivation?"

_'To hurt people.'_

"I don't want to hurt people," she said with a frown.

_'That's where the rest of your ability comes in; you just have to get close enough to grab them. No blood or gore until the hooking.'_

"You've...put some thought into this."

 _'I've been waiting for this,'_ The Entity confirmed.

The end result was a tall woman, dressed in iridescent black. Over her face sat a crow mask, The Entity having taken her glass eye and replacing it with another, both eyes glowing red as she peered in the mirror. Her legs were that of a bird, knees bent backwards and tapered at the ankle, foot forked instead into three sharp toes with an extra on the back, presumably for balance. Her cloak, a heavy dark thing covered in shiny black feathers, was much longer than she was tall, brushing the ground and collecting dirt even as she walked, a full head higher than she normally was.

Her nails were elongated, covered in an inky blackness that crept up her arms, veiny, like an illness as she pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her feet were as black as her cloak, as black as her hands, the same inky blackness creeping up her thighs. Beneath the cloak she wore her usual clothes, a pair of denim shorts and a sunflower print blouse that had been sewn for her by Bubba, tucked in and half unbuttoned with a white tank top beneath.

"Should I change my clothes?"

_'Do you have anything in black?'_

 

* * *

 

When she faded back into existence -a strange feeling after so long- it was in the rotten cornfield of the Coldwind farm.

She groaned inwardly.

She intended to try in the trial, legitimately try or The Entity would know, but the thought of finding someone in this mess made her head spin.

She crept through the dead corn, pulling her heavy cloak around herself to minimize her own noise. With her eyes and ears, she closely monitored her surroundings.

 _'The crows will help you, as will I,'_ The Entity had told her. _'Small hints, nothing more.'_

Her first target was Jake, kneeling beside a generator and fixing it with deft hands. Unfortunately for him -and very fortunately for her- he wasn't paying the most attention to his surroundings.

She grabbed him off the generator with hands that felt much stronger than usual. He made a sound -a choked off scream- that was so upsetting to her, she considered dropping him. She lifted him to her shoulder awkwardly, eyes instantly lighting up with the auras of hooks near and across the field.

She carried the struggling man -a task much easier than she expected- to the nearest hook and stopped in front of it, hesitant.

_'Hook him and then walk away.'_

Still she hesitated.

 _'Hook him and then walk away,'_ The Entity whispered again in her ear, much more impatiently this time. _'You've already come this far.'_

She hefted him off her shoulder and then up, up, dropping him, hook protruding viciously from his chest. Jake screamed -another horrible sound- before going silent all together, hanging from the hook, defeated.

By the third hook, things weren't so terrible.

She listened to the crows as The Entity had told her, quickly growing accustomed to stealthing behind the survivors, the whole ordeal made much easier by the fact that she could just grab them instead of having to chase them down. Ace -a gambling man and not one she had had much contact with- was by far the least aware, snatched up in the middle of plundering a chest. Two more she grabbed while they were fixing a generator or unhooking another survivor.

She stepped easily through the corn, new legs less of an oddity now that she had had some practice with them.

When the alarm sounded through the barren field, there was only one survivor left.

"You!" Meg shouted, standing in the exit gates only inches away from surviving the trial.

She froze in place, lips curving downward beneath the crow mask she wore. How had she known?

She tried to speak but found she couldn't, tried to remove the mask but found she couldn't do that either.

 _'Stop getting so worked up,'_ The Entity said. _'She doesn't know.'_

Was it possible that Meg didn't actually know who she was talking to?

'You know if she recognizes me, it's all over between me and the survivors, right?'

_'She's only going to recognize you if this goes on for much longer.'_

She lunged forward on deft feet, effectively startling Meg out of the exit gates.

The runner looked back one more time, scowling, before taking off, running through the massive field.

 

* * *

 

Later when she dragged her feet back to the house -cloak thrown over her arm and knees now fixed forward to their original positions- she was met immediately with hugs from Max and Bubba.

"You did great!" Max chirped, excited. "We saw the whole thing!"

"We?" She echoed, disentangling herself from the pair and moving into the house.

"Yeah, all of us!" Max laughed, thrilled for her that it had gone so well. "Everyone got together in a room and watched it on a big screen!"

"Oh geez," she said awkwardly, hanging her cloak by the door and moving to remove her mask. "Who is everyone?"

"Everyone!" Max said, "Me and Bubba and Evan and Phillip and The Huntress and Herman and even Michael and The Nurse came although they stayed in the back. Freddy came too but threw popcorn at the screen and yelled 'BOO' anytime you were too much of a weenie to hit someone."

"How...embarrassing."

"No! Everyone was really proud of you!"

Her heart fluttered at the praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay listen, I know no terror radius is super OP but I tried to balance it out the best I could. I even put her on a map where the black of her outfit would really stand out. I don't work for Behaviour and I'm no killer scientist so I worked with what I had. 
> 
> Maybe a little overdone but I consider a crow appropriate because crows are little spies for The Entity.
> 
> Also her perks: Spies From The Shadows, Whispers, and Iron Grasp. Whispers and Spies for obvious reasons but I figured Iron Grasp because if she's going to be holding onto people when they're not in the dying state, she's got to be really strong.


	15. Mistaken Faces

"Oh, hey, since you're here, I could really use someone to take my place in today's trial."

"Oh?" She asked, setting a fresh basket of offerings on the dining room table. "No thanks."

Nea curled her lip, clearly not anticipating the answer she had received. "What's the big deal? It's not like _you_ ever have to do trials."

Her fingers clenched at the side of the basket briefly before moving away. She wanted to say that that wasn't true at all, that she had just done a trial, but couldn't find a way to express that otherwise without saying that she had been on the other side.

Two trials in a row? Things were set up so nobody had to do that.

"You did it for Quentin," David offered helpfully, waltzing in and passing the pair with drink in hand. "Probably couldn't hurt to do it for someone else."

"You _did_ do it for Quentin that one time!" Nea agreed.

"I did," she said, now effectively wedged between a rock and a hard place. She wanted the survivors to like her, to trust her, but not at her own expense. "I'll take your place, I guess, just this once."

She thought of the conversation she had had with Herman prior and hoped for a more merciful match.

 

* * *

 

  
Their first meeting within a trial was not a kind one. It was not with exchanged niceties or or gentle words. It was with a heavy mallet swing to the back of the head as she worked with shaking fingers against the ancient generator.

She gave a startled cry as the force from the blow knocked her face into the machine, struggling to stand on legs that felt like jelly.

'Wait,' she had tried to say, ever the negotiator, but her voice failed and she staggered, trying and failing to turn and face the massive man.

Bubba reached for her with one hand and she ducked under it, struggling again to speak.

_'Don't bother, he doesn't recognize you.'_

She took off on unsteady feet across the expanse of the swamp, back of her head pounding as she struggled to stay conscious.

The mud was so thick in some places that she staggered, worried that the thick goop would suck the shoes off her feet.

She threw down a pallet between them, panicked when the red stain of his vision came too close, the wood biting into her hands.

He broke the pallet with a harsh stomp, revving his chainsaw before letting go of the throttle and accelerating forward, chainsaw swiping back and forth in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. She turned to run, much too slow, but was instead mowed down by the brutal machinery.

Bubba lifted her off the ground easily in her dazed and bleeding state, open, gory chainsaw wounds covering the expanse of her back. She struggled weakly, blood and mud mixing together, dripping into her eyes and nearly blinding her. The large man held firm, grabbing and holding onto her thigh so tightly, she could feel the bruises already beginning to form on top of her other injuries.

'Bubba,' she tried again, dizzy. She could taste blood on her tongue. 'Bubba, wait.'

Being hooked was an indescribable pain that would continue to follow her for the rest of the trial. It was as if everything within her body had moved, ribs bunching together and organs sliding aside to make room for the massive intrusion. She felt it even as David held her in place, closing up the largest wounds to the best of his ability with the shoddy first-aid kit he had found in one of the chests.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, hands covered in a thin sheen of blood, "for ganging up on you earlier. I didn't mean it."

"Don't apologize," she rasped, opening her mouth to swallow a pain pill dry. "Let's just finish this shit so I can go home."

Only, did she really want to go home after this?

She rose on shaky legs, brushing the dirt from her knees. "How many generators are left?"

 

* * *

   
The trial ended for her before anyone else.

It was only on her last hook that Bubba noticed her clothes, caked in blood but familiar.

He made a noise of distress, dropping his chainsaw into the mud and reaching up with bloodied and shaking hands to clutch her sides, as if making to lift her from the hook.

But then The Entity's spider-like appendages were there, piercing her chest and lifting her up, taking it's sacrifice skyward.

With a low sob, he unfurled his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

She considered heading home but then thought better of it. Max was no good with a needle and thread and the wounds on her back still oozed and ached, in desperate need of attention.

When she knocked softly at the door of the survivor's house, it was Ace that answered.

"Yikes," he said, taking in her haggard appearance and stepping aside to let her in. "I'll grab Claudette."

When her other three teammates arrived less than an hour later, she was two drinks in and already feeling a whole hell of a lot better. She was surrounded by people -a strange but not unwelcome feeling- her body warm from the alcohol and her injuries stitched, an ugly crisscross of wounds along her back that left her wincing.

"It was weird, it was like after he got you, he didn't care anymore," Feng said, settling down with feet on the table and the chair's front legs off the ground.

'He's my roommate,' she wanted to say but knew that was out of the question. 'He's probably as traumatized as I am.'

"Weird," she said instead, throwing back her drink.

 

* * *

 

Later when she arrived home -shirt still bloody and tattered and caked with mud- Bubba wouldn't meet her eyes.

She considered walking past him, heading up to her room and going to sleep.

"I'm not upset," she said instead and that was nearly the truth. She had never seen what the man was capable of, hoped she would never have to see it again. "You didn't know it was me, you were just doing your job."

The man rose from his seat and moved over to where she stood by the steps, one hand on the banister and left foot on the first stair. He grabbed her with gentle hands, turned her, inspecting the stitches on her back. He made a small noise, hands hovering, too afraid to touch.

"I'm not upset," she said again, much closer to a lie this time as she moved to pull away from the large man.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (She's very upset)
> 
> Also in case it wasn't clear, she doesn't heal immediately after the trials like the survivors do.
> 
> Also also I'll probably be taking a short break from this fic to work on a very self indulgent Texas Chainsaw Massacre fic I've been wanting to write for the last like 12 years. So heads up on that.


	16. Trophies

"Kate never came back from the trial," Claudette said when she reached the porch steps. She had been waiting for her arrival, obviously, bouncing on her heels anxiously.

"What?" She frowned, confused. "How long has it been?"

"A little over an hour, I think."

"I didn't want to leave but I was hurt, we were all hurt," Claudette said, a hint of sadness in her voice, guilt etched clearly across her features. "You understand, right?" 

"It was The Clown," Quentin uttered, fingers twitching nervously at his side. "It was The Clown and we knew he wanted her and we just left her."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kate Denson was a beautiful young woman, hopeful and full of light and life. She had a voice like a song bird, her words and lyrics as genuine as the woman herself.

Jeffery Hawk wanted nothing more than to snuff out that light.

He had caught her without much difficulty thanks to his tonic, the last in the trial and easily the one he most wanted to get his hands on.

Father Campbell's Chapel was a mess of burnt wood and broken stained glass windows that crunched underfoot as he walked. The carpets, once a beautiful rich color, were faded where the sun had shined for so long, black with mildew and mold.

He had carried her to the basement in her injured state and allowed her to struggle free. She was crouched in the corner, both hands over her mouth and nose as she attempted to block out the tonic that kept her at bay, making her head fuzzy and her limbs uncooperative.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hello, Maurice," she said as she passed the sick horse settled beside The Clown's caravan, reaching out to give his head a scratch but careful to avoid his extra eye.

The horse gave her a nod and a weak whinny as she passed but made no other moves, lowering it's head back to the tall grass after the girl had passed.

It was with great haste that she made her way into the burned out chapel. Her steps on the crumbling floor were deliberate, purposely hitting all the creaks and groans on the stairs to better alert the pair in the basement of her arrival.

"Kenneth, what a surprise," she said when she hit the bottom step, tone of voice a clear indication that she wasn't surprised in the least "Why are you holding this trial -and this lovely girl- hostage?"

"It's Jeffery," the large man grunted, idly spinning a bottle in one hand.

"Sure."

"The Entity doesn't let me keep my trophies," the man said, shaking the key ring at his side for emphasis. "Every trial, I work hard and every trial, my prize is taken."

"So you thought, hey, might as well keep the whole girl?" She snapped, irritated as she caught sight of the girl -normally a beacon of light even through the misery that was the trials- cowering in the corner with her hand over her mouth. "It doesn't work that way. You don't get to go off the rails because you didn't get your way."

The man laughed, a raspy, congested sound. "That's real rich coming from you."

In her ear, The Entity cackled.

Ignoring the quip, she squared her shoulders, moving to stand between the killer and survivor, much smaller than The Clown but entirely unintimidated. "Kate, the hatch is upstairs. I suggest you get going."

The girl didn't have to be told twice. She rose on weak legs and made immediately for the basement steps, hand still over her mouth as she swayed.

When The Clown made a move, as if to go around her, as if to grab for her as she passed, she stepped to the side, easily blocking his path again.

"She's getting the hatch," she said firmly, fists clenched at her sides. "You had your chance and you lost it."

"And will you take her place?" He asked, eyes roaming her hands obviously and without a bit of shame. "Unclench those fists for me, would you, sweetheart? I'd love to see those pretty fingers."

She swung hard, fist connecting with his jaw and sending him staggering. He caught himself on one of the faded red lockers, the ancient thing groaning under his weight as he struggled to right himself.

Again, The Entity laughed

"You're still pretty new so I'm going to choose to overlook this." She said, maneuvering around him easily and shaking out her fist as she began the climb up the rickety basement stairs. "Do your trials without pulling anymore bullshit and I'll see about your trophies."

The Clown watched as she ascended, rubbing his jaw with one grubby gloved hand. "I'll be seeing you, girlie," he called up the stairs, grinning to himself when she paused briefly before continuing on.

 

* * *

 

 

When she approached the survivor house some time later -she had been sure to give Kate plenty of time to settle in and answer the inevitable barrage of questions from her peers- she was still fuming from the whole ordeal.

"You okay?" She asked when she finally found the girl.

Kate was tucked away on a sofa in one of the more quiet corners of the survivor house, guitar on her lap as she plucked idly at the strings. 

"I'm fine," she said. 

She wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I listened upstairs for a minute before taking the hatch," Kate said, eyeing the still-faint oily smear of blue and white across the other woman's knuckles. "Did you hit him?"

"I did."

"Thank you...for sticking up for me."

"You didn't deserve what you got, I'm sorry. I should have kept a better eye on the trial." 

"You and Claudette and Quentin are just the same," Kate said, letting out a small, haggard laugh. "Stop blaming yourselves for the actions of someone else. It was out of your hands. And I'm tough! I'll be okay."

She smiled despite herself. "I know," she replied, turning from the blonde songbird. "You'll call me if you need anything, right?"

"Of course," she said, fingers dancing across her guitar.

It was when she started to leave that Kate began to sing, a sound that seemed to shift the air in the room, enveloping and soothing her like a heavy blanket. She let out a breath she realized she had been holding since the altercation with The Clown, felt her tense shoulders drop. Kate's words were not for show.

The sound followed her through the door and down the steps of the survivor house, into the woods that would take her home.

She didn't look back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay for realsies, this is all I have typed up for right now. If you have any prompts or ideas, hit me with them and if I'm in love with them I'll probably figure out how to balance between this fic and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre one I've been working really hard on.


	17. That’s the Spirit!

Screaming.

Rin bled heavily from the gruesome carving at her hip, warm blood flowing and oozing without pause or mercy. She could feel the restless snaking of her intestines against her palm, slick and hot, reminiscent of the needy press of an animal wishing to be pet. Her fingers shook, unsteady and weak, a barely-there barricade between her organs and the tatami mat below.

She crawled forward on her knees, unable to stand in her gruesome state, glass crunching unforgivingly beneath her free palm as she struggled to straighten herself. From Rin’s wound came another rush of gore, the woman opening her mouth in a soundless cry as she doubled over, her dark hair pooling around her like a mourning veil.

Rin’s heartbeat roared in her ears as her father raised his katana, blood -her mother’s blood, _her_ blood- dripping from the blade and trailing in small streams against his white-knuckled grip.

She glared up at the man that had raised her, the man she had trusted for as long as she had been alive. There had been no recognition in his strange eyes as she cried out, no emotion on his face as she pleaded, as if a mask of grim indifference had been slipped over his visage.

Her chest surged with something, as if a fire had been ignited in her, and her anger began to burn, hotter than the blood seeping onto the floor beneath her.

Rin bowed her head low, closing her eyes against the tears that welled up and threatened to spill. She would die here, she knew, same as her mother. Rin’s fingers folded against the mat beneath her and she howled in rage, in pain, a mournful sound that echoed around her, loud and unforgiving.

As the color faded from the world around her, Rin pressed her forehead to the floor, vowing an oath to herself, to any deity that would listen, that her father’s actions would not be without consequence.

There was a strange noise above her, a ragged intake of breath, a sudden warm slickness that crept over her hand as she spread her fingers. Her nose was met with a horrible smell, more overwhelming even than the blood that pooled around her.

Rin remembered screaming.

And then Rin remembered silence.

 

* * *

 

For ages, it seemed, Rin roamed the halls of her ancestral home in a daze. The estate was dusty, familiar, well-worn tatami mats forever stained with the gore that had shaped her into the monster she had become.

She clenched and unclenched her fingers slowly, tendons gently flexing behind unfamiliar soft blue skin.

Rin felt the new presence as soon as it set foot on the estate grounds, an odd prickling feeling at the back of her neck that she could not explain.

The girl was strange, entirely unfamiliar to her, gawking openly at the dilapidated architecture that remained of the Yamaoka Estate.

Rin watched patiently as the stranger made her way slowly towards the main house, watched as she trailed careful fingers along the bright, splintered railings of the garden bridges, their stream beds long since dried up and riddled with overgrown bamboo. She eyed the odd woman as she approached, observing  the figure as they stepped carefully around the rock garden and its crumbling walls, respectful of the feature although it had gone without maintenance for some time.

“Hello,” the stranger said, extending a hand in greeting. “You must be Rin.”

Oh, American.

Rin was very practiced in the English language, getting high marks in the subject in school as well as working for some time in a restaurant frequented by English-speaking tourists. 

Rin did not offer her hand in return. Instead she eyed the woman from her position on the engawa, chin tipped upwards. Rin’s body language was unfriendly by any cultural standards, she knew, but still she stood, palms tucked against either side of her body.

The stranger seemed unbothered as she withdrew her hand, small smile still tugging awkwardly at one corner of her lips despite Rin’s cold indifference.

The woman met her eyes without fear as they regarded each other. “You probably have questions,” she said after a moment.

“You are not afraid of me,” Rin said, not a question.

“No,” the stranger confirmed.

“Perhaps you are a fool then.”

Rin had caught sight of herself not so long ago, her complexion unfamiliar to her, strange, bright eyes glinting back at her from a fractured mirror she had found discarded in the corner of the old estate.

She had traced her facial features carefully, finding only smooth blue skin where freckles had once peppered the bridge of her nose, as well as heavily darkened skin around her eyes, as if blood had pooled there suddenly and decided to make the place its home. Her sliced limbs -horrific to look at but entirely without blood- defied gravity, defied reason, a mystery she investigated as thoroughly as she she was able to.

Rin recalled the slide of her slim fingers between floating chunks of flesh, how strange she had found it when the action was met with no resistance. Her bones had been severed cleanly, neatly, all muscle and tendons hacked away by the unforgiving sharpness of her father’s blade.

The glass at her shoulder was another odd addition to her form, sharp and unforgiving as she had touched it with tentative fingers. Rin had grown tired of the shards immediately, quickly losing patience the first time her long hair had caught and severed, tickling her arm as the loose tangle of hair floated benignly to the ground.

“Who are you?” Rin said, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand.

“I’m a messenger.”

 

* * *

  

Rin listened patiently as the woman spoke, weaving a strange tale of other-worldly beings and a smattering of unfortunate souls, “recovered” by The Entity and used as game pieces in a never ending cycle.

“And I have been selected for this grim lottery?”

Here at least, the strange woman perked up. “Well, originally The Entity had it’s eyes on your father. But in the end, The Entity saw something special in you, something worth saving.”

Rin could feel her lip curling into a grimace. “The Entity considers me saved?”

Something flashed across the strange woman’s face, regret maybe, her mouth falling open slightly as she realized her mistake. She brought her hands up, palms outward, attempting immediately to placate her. “Listen, Rin, that came out wrong-“

“Your Entity considers this saved?” Rin echoed, clenching gnarled fingers at her side. The broken tip of the katana that had ended her mother’s life flexed restlessly beneath her skin, an ever-present reminder of just how quickly everything had gone wrong. She felt a definite shift in energy, felt as her hair began to lift from its cascade down her back, as if suddenly alive with her growing fury.

Rin swiped her fingers through the large, open wound at her side, bringing it up so quickly to the other woman’s face that she flinched away. “Do you see, messenger, how I am wounded but cannot bleed? Do you know that when a breeze makes the bamboo whistle outside, I feel no chill, though my sarashi covers so little?”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t-“

“I am in _pieces_ ,” Rin snarled. “I am not  _whole_. Your Entity has not saved me, it has _trapped_ me here in my own personal hell. And you -who I have only just met- carry such an air of indifference about you, speaking so casually of others who are not so fortunate as you. It is infuriating.”

The messenger opened her mouth to speak again but Rin was quicker, raising one hand to silence her.

“I will not participate in your trials, nor will I perform acts of violence against those who are undeserving of it.” Rin turned her head from the woman, disinterested, dismissive. “Take your leave.”

The stranger’s face shuffled quickly through a range of emotions -something that Rin found very strange- as if she were having an elaborate internal conversation with herself. After a moment the woman settled on a frown, giving a small hum to acknowledge she had heard.

Rin watched as the woman turned, side-stepping a towering clump of bamboo as she made for the exit. Rin gave a hum of her own, pleased. At least the woman knew when she was defeated.

“In the meantime, let me know if you need anything,” the messenger called behind her. “I know it can be hard adjusting to-“

“I would like a cat,” Rin said firmly, her chin tipped upwards although the messenger did not face her.

“Of course,” The stranger replied, clearly amused. 

“Messenger, I would like two cats!” She called, both hands cupped around her mouth to insure the sound would carry all the way to the exit gate where the woman now stood. “Two!” Rin called, raising two fingers and scissoring them in the air as the stranger turned again to face her.

The woman laughed, a loud, friendly sound that carried across the estate. “Catch you later, Rin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New DLC dropped a couple of days ago whaaaaaat? You know what that means! Time to uhh skip over the new characters and write something for the killer released months ago whoops.
> 
> Anyway, Rin deserved better.


	18. A Cold Day In Hell

If someone had taken the time to ask her what her perfect morning would be like, she’d be able to answer without hesitation.

It would be waking slowly in her bed, her sheets sun-warmed as she stretched her arms above her head. The crows outside -once an animal that had frightened her- would caw, tapping with sharp beaks against her window pane as the smell of fresh breakfast wafted from downstairs.

Nobody ever made her breakfast anymore.

Instead on this particular morning, Bubba had dragged her out of bed excitedly, pulling her through her open doorway and down the hall even as she grunted, attempting to resist the pull. “Man, we talked about this,” she grumbled tiredly, trying in vain to hold her ground but sliding uselessly on the hardwood as her socks refused to catch and hold.

From an open doorway came Max, grin plastered across his twisted face as he nearly collided with the pair. “Did you see yet?” Max asked, eyes shining wildly as he glanced first to her and then to Bubba. “Did she see?”

Bubba shook his head quickly, sliding one arm around her waist as he lifted her, impatient now with her slowness.

The cold air hit her so suddenly that for a moment she had no idea what she was seeing.

“Oh shit,” she said, immediately bringing both hands up to grip at her upper arms.

It was cold, so cold, colder than it had been at any point since the trials began.

“What is it?” Max asked suddenly.

“Oh um, snow,” she said by explanation. It made sense that Max had no idea what he was seeing. “It’s kind of like rain but it only happens when it’s really cold out.”

At Max’s wonderous expression, she reached out, scooping up a handful of snow and placing it in the man’s own outstretched hand.

“Here,” she said. “Totally harmless.”

She watched as he puzzled over the cold, melting clump of snow, watched as he squeezed it and turned it over in his hands experimentally.

“Oh,” Max said softly.

“You two should go bundle up if you’re going to be outside playing in it. I’m sure Bubbs here would be willing to teach you how to build a snowman.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is it like this everywhere?”

“Yes.” 

She drew the blanket more securely around her shoulders, squinting against the reflective brightness beyond the window. “Huh.”

A pause.

“You gave everyone winter clothes though, right?” 

Silence.

“Heaters?

Silence.

“Oh god. Blankets?”

“I didn’t spend all this time slaving away to make the realm ‘more realistic’ only to have my hard work criticized by some ungrateful-“

“Did you give them blankets or not?”

A moment of hesitation.

“No,” The Entity said slowly.

She lifted her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply to calm herself. “Okay,” she said after a moment, resigned. “Okay. Let’s put out a bulletin for everyone that can leave their realms to come here for blankets and heaters and maybe some warmer clothes.” A pause. “Sweaters, maybe.”

“Sweaters,” The Entity repeated.

“Yeah, sweaters. Like custom sweaters for everyone! Evan’s could have cute little traps and Philip’s could have jingling bells and Anna’s could have hatchets and rabbits!”

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

As per usual, Evan was the first to arrive on her doorstep, threadbare blanket slung across his massive shoulders.

“Oh, hi, Evan. Enjoying the winter weather?”

“I don’t own a shirt.”

She frowned, stepping aside to let him in. “Oh, okay.”

Next came Amanda and Rin who accepted their blankets gratefully.

Rin was a strange but not-unwelcome sight, dressed in Amanda’s red duster with a struggling cat under each arm. She scowled against the cold, clearly displeased.

“Imagine my surprise this morning when I awoke to half a meter of snow and a chill in the air that had my teeth chattering,” Rin said, shifting her hold on both cats and pressing past her into the house. “I would rather go back to feeling nothing than have to deal with this gruesome weather.”

Amanda grunted in agreement, wrapping herself in the aforementioned blanket. “Every day a new blessing from our all-powerful Entity,” the woman mocked. “Shame it’s never anything good.”

She went to close the door but was met instead with a cold hand around her wrist, large and so sudden that it startled a gasp out of her.

“Philip!” She cried, hand instantly flying to the large man’s hand as it held her.

_Cold, unhappiness, regret, apology, cold._

He drew his hand back with an apologetic smile, waiting patiently for her to step aside so he could enter.

“Nah, man, you’re totally cool. Come on in.”

When she turned to follow the man into the living room, she was met instead by a large German Shepherd, black as night.

“Well get dressed, then. I don’t have all day.”

“Dressed for what?”

“We’re going to march right over to the survivor house so I can see their smiling faces,” The Entity said, dragging its fluffy tail back and forth across the floor. “My killers are ungrateful, clearly, but surely my survivors are pleased.”

“It’s pretty nippy out there,” she commented idly, reaching for the thick winter coat that now hung by the door. “Might want to put on a sweater or something.”

“I don’t need a sweater.”

“Some booties?”

“What?”

“So your toesies don’t get cold,” she said by explanation.

“I’m an all-powerful god. All you see or have seen is under my control,” The Entity said. “I assure you, my toesies will be fine.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s horrible, everything is horrible,” Claudette grumbled from behind her hands. “Nothing was ready to be harvested and there’s no way my plants are surviving this frost.”

“Too cold to run,” Meg commented idly.

“I don’t mind it so much,” the newcomer, Jeff, said shyly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear as if he wasn’t yet sure his opinion was welcome. “Kind of reminds me of home, actually.”

“I slipped and almost broke my leg on the stairs this morning,” Dwight continued, eyeing the strange black dog as it watched him with red eyes.

“Ah,” she said dumbly, shifting her eyes to look at The Entity as it thumped it’s tail angrily against her snow boot. Her brain sputtered as it tried to find a way to deal with the situation at hand. “That’s uhh...whoops you guys, I’ve gotta go. Like right now. There should be plenty of blankets stowed in the hall closets and winter clothes in your dressers, um...hopefully.”

She turned on her heel with an awkward half-wave and a smile -stiff and strange, she knew- making it almost entirely to the door before realizing that The Entity had not moved from where she had left it, the large black dog still staring at the survivors as if transfixed.

Oh no.

She grit her teeth as she made her way back to the beast, dropping to one knee and sliding one arm around its chest and the other behind its back legs. “C’mon, bud,” she said feigning nonchalance as she found herself completely unable to lift it.

The Entity did not acknowledge her, eyes still trained on the few remaining survivors as they watched the pair curiously.

“Please don’t do this right now,” she whispered furiously as she strained to lift the dog. “I’m sure they’ll change their minds after they put on their winter clothes and spend a couple hours playing in it.”

The dog huffed but allowed itself to be lifted.

 

* * *

 

The bowl of chili was warm in her hands, a stark but comforting contrast to the world outside.

Lisa Sherwood was perhaps the one she had the least interaction with. She was a recluse in every sense of the word, often choosing instead to make herself scarce when she was instructed by The Entity to check in. She was a strange sight now, small in her trap-patterned sweater as she ate her bowl of chili.

To her, chili was an odd food she had not had much experience with in the past. It was used for hot dogs and the like, always a condiment but never a star on its own.

However when the filling combination of hearty meat and flavorful spices bloomed across her tongue, she was sold.

“Holy shit,” she said, oblivious when her exclamation drew the attention of everyone else in the room. “Who made this?”

“Bubba did! Isn’t it great?” Max chirped.

“Bubba, huh? Yeah it’s really-“

Wait.

 _Bubba_ did?

“What uh...what…”

Max and Lisa both looked at her expectantly as she struggled through her question. She could feel the color draining from her face.

“Is this human?” She managed to croak finally, voice teetering on the edge of panic. “Am I eating human?”

Lisa leaned forward slowly, elbows on the table with her chin resting atop her gnarled hands. “And would that really be the worst possible scenario?” She said in her heavily accented English, watching her much more closely than she was comfortable with.

She felt a million responses blow past her then and she struggled to catch even one.

“Surely a home cooked meal made with love is not your biggest fear?”

“I suppose not…” she said, voice airy and far away as her eyes found and accessed Bubba and Max as they watched her expectantly from their positions by the kitchen counter.

She returned her gaze to the bowl of chili, steeling herself before taking another slow bite.

After all, it was really good chili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to all my readers and a big HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all!!!!
> 
> Also I felt like the killer totally should have gotten Christmas sweaters too. Just throwing that out there.


	19. Three's a Crowd But Four's a Party

“Fix this,” The Entity had told her, barely giving her enough time to register she was being spoken to before squirreling her away from her breakfast.

She had shrugged in response. She had fixed a few things for The Entity so far; some offerings there, a cannibal here, a nightmare there…

It was no secret that she loved a challenge.

“How long has it been since they moved?”

“They haven’t.”

“Like at all?”

“Not even a muscle.”

“Huh,” she said after a moment. She had spoken to the killer’s counterpart nearly a week ago, and as far as The Entity had told her, they had been brought in together. To find that one of them hadn’t moved at all since being brought in was very strange and -by association- very interesting. “Drop me in.”

It was The Entity’s turn to be confused. “What?” The huge, black doe asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get a reaction.”

“You’re going to be seen.”

“No, no, for real, drop me in. Nobody’s going to see me.”

The trial grounds were unfamiliar under her feet, crunching with cold snow and slush but with only the slightest chill in the air. The scenery was that of winter, scattered with thick, wooden walls, oddly built and strange as they towered around her. It was picturesque almost, with the exception of the neon construction mesh and the completely unreadable graffiti that marred the landscape.

“Hey!” A voice called, friendly and clear as a bell in the otherwise silent realm.

She’d recognize that voice anywhere, the tone, the accent, the wide smile you could almost _hear._ Ace Visconti.

“Awwwshit.”

_Idiot._

“What are you doing here?” Jake asked, easily the more antisocial of the two.

She turned slowly to face the pair of survivors that now stood, not even some ten feet away. She froze, mind grinding to a halt, blank as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Oh that’s umm-“ she began, the older of the pair immediately cutting her off.

“Who’s that?” Ace asked, leaning around her, his shit eating grin a constant.

“I have no idea who that is,” she lied easily.

“A boldfaced lie,” Ace laughed. “I figured out your tell ages ago. Are they new?”

“They’re something all right,” she said vaguely. “You two should go finish the generators and let me worry about this.”

Instead Ace strode forward, stepping around her easily to inspect the newcomer. He leaned in close, humming to himself, the sound carrying on the wind. “Well, the mask is off-putting but they’re way too shrimpy to be a killer,” he decided finally.

It was when Ace gently touched the mask with his fingertips that all hell broke loose in the clearing.

The reaction was instantaneous, the being suddenly springing into action, swiping at the older man quickly with a sharp hunting knife.

As Ace turned to run -a choked off cry of pain dying on his lips- she caught sight of the deep wound on his chest, bright red and furious, staining the front of his friendly, light-blue flamingo sweater.

She turned to find that Jake had also taken off as quickly as he had appeared, boots pounding the cold ground as he and Ace scattered in different directions.

She was not so easily deterred, however.

“Hi,” she started, now that the figure had moved and expressed consciousness. “Are you finally with us?”

“Us?” Came the response, garbled but soft. The being clenched and unclenched their fingers, slow and awkward as if it was not something they had done before. “Are you like us?” They asked, higher pitched and strained, as if fighting to speak.

She thought for a moment, giving a quiet hum before answering. “I suppose that would all depend on what you’re like.”

“We are too many,” the being said, head lolling and groaning as if in pain. “We should not be.”

It was only when the being reached out and clutched at her hand that she understood the full scope of what The Entity had done.

A cacophony of voices cried out to her all at once, crying and furious and pleading and lost, all trapped in the same body but all so alone.

 

* * *

 

 

“How does speaking work?” She asked The Entity later, after the alarms had sounded and all the survivors had left.

“I’m glad you asked,” the black deer said, it’s tone almost cheerful. “The souls within Legion function independently. If they can agree on what to say or what to do, Legion’s body reacts, speaking or acting in a way that fits the mold I’ve designed for them.”

“Yikes,” she said. “Do away with that.”

The Entity bristled. “I worked hard on that concept.”

“We can always go back, E. But right now your concept is getting in the way of me figuring out what the problem is.”

The Entity gave a huff of dissatisfaction but relented. “And what would you propose instead?”

“Taking turns and sharing,” she chimed brightly. “Basic kindergarten concepts that everyone should know.”

 

* * *

 

 

“One at a time,” she said slowly, furrowing her brow. “One at a time and let's say that the youngest speaks first.”

There was a moment where there was no noise at all except for the whispering of the wind through the trees outside of the abandoned ski lodge. Then came the answer, masculine but young and trying very hard to sound brave, voice cracking in the quiet room.

“What happened to us?”

She felt her heart clench, as if someone was squeezing it in an impossibly large fist. A thousand questions ran through her head. _How old are you? How many are you? Who lead you astray?_

“You…” she started, averting her gaze. “You’re here, all of you, because you did something very bad.”

“ _So what_ if we killed that guy. We were protecting Julie.”

She raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in attitude and tone. This was no longer the voice of a younger boy.

There was another voice then, young and high, feminine and full of venom. “You weren’t protecting anyone, Frank. You _wanted_ to hurt that guy.”

“We _all_ killed that guy.”

“But you were the only one who _wanted_ to!”

“Hey, hey,” she said. “The girl that just spoke, what’s your name?”

There was a brief pause before the same voice returned, softer and a little shy. “Susie.”

“Sweet, little Susie,” came another voice, feminine and mocking.

“Does anyone else see the fucking deer-“

“Shut up, Julie. You’ve done nothing but treat me like shit ever since Frank-“

“Don’t you even talk to me about Frank-“

“Ma’am, could you possibly-”

“‘Ma’am'? Don’t be such a kiss ass, Joey. She’s probably barely older than-”

“What do you mean ‘don’t even talk to me about Frank’? Frank has been literally all you’ve been talking about for months! Frank was your ticket out of-”

“Don’t say another word, Susie!”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, what-”

“Everybody QUIET!” Frank barked suddenly, voice much louder and firmer than the voice he had used earlier.

She took a quick step back, both arms raised in front of her.

“I’m the leader and I say when-“

 _“I’m the leader and I say when-“_ came Susie’s voice again, no longer soft or friendly or shy. “We already killed for you, Frank, I don’t think anyone else-“

“Since when do you have a spine, Susie?”

She took another step back, listening as the ensemble argued among themselves. “Can we like, separate them?”

The deer glanced away from the bickering teens, red eyes finding and holding her own. “Separate them for what purpose? This is quality entertainment.”

“I mean clearly they’re not functioning like this. They’ve been twitching and arguing for ten minutes and all I’ve found out are their names.”

“But the whole point is that they’re Legion. They’re _supposed_ to be an amalgamation. They’re _supposed_ to be a multitude.”

“Bro, I don’t know how to tell you that your ‘ _multitude_ ’ is just four bickering teenagers in a trench coat.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right.”

“Discouraging, I know. But consider this: if you separate them, you get four new _functioning_ killers for the price of one.”

The Entity tilted it’s head, as if mulling this over. “I like that,” it decided finally.

And then suddenly there were four teenagers where only one had stood before.

The four took a moment to inspect themselves and each other, as if checking to make sure that everyone was still themselves after the ordeal. They felt their clothes, their hair, bringing their hands up to tug at their familiar masks, all different but all the same, just like them.

Frank -the oldest- was easily distinguishable, his body having been chosen as the one that would represent Legion. He watched the other three teens, feigning disinterest, as if he were a king surveying his charges and nothing more. He found his seat quickly by the fire pit, crossing his legs casually and resting his arms atop the outer edge, the picture of familiarity.

“Is this your deer?” The youngest, Joey, whispered softly, keeping his movements intentionally slow as if afraid of startling the ‘animal’.

“The deer is an all-powerful being,” she said easily, casual.

“Can I pet it?”

“Uhhh,” she said slowly, blinking in confusion. Would The Entity even let itself be pet?

_Yes, he can pet me._

“Go for it, bud,” she shrugged, turning her attention to the fight that seemed to be brewing between the two girls.

Frank watched from the sidelines as the girls circled each other, comfortable on his cushion by the fire pit.

“No, no!” She said, grabbing the two teenagers by the back of their coats and forcibly pulling them apart as they lunged. “We are absolutely _not_ brawling right now.”

For one girl this seemed to be enough. She settled with a frown, arms crossed over her chest and head turned away from the group as she breathed deeply through her nose, thoroughly chastised but still furious.

The other girl -she would later find out that the scrappier of the two was Julie- reached with a furious yell, catching the edge of the other teen’s hoodie and pulling hard.

“Stop that,” the said, shaking Julie maybe a little harder than she meant to. “Sit down and work out your shit. It’s going to get harder from now on and you’re going to want all the friends you can get.”

“What do you mean by that?” Frank asked, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in his seat, suddenly interested.

“I mean just what I said, it’s all downhill from here.”

“Downhill means that things will be easier from now on,” Joey said, both hands still cupped softly around the deer’s face. “If it’s going to be harder, it’s going to be uphill.”

“Oh,” she said. “That makes sense, thanks.”

“Wait, so is it going to be easier or harder?” Susie asked, gently dislodging her hand and taking her own seat by the fire pit.

“Harder,” she said decisively. “Things are going to be much harder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so let me just go ahead and say that the dialogue here is intentionally confusing. Like it's totally distinguishable if you take the time to pick it apart but together it just looks like a mess (which was the goal).
> 
> I know I just introduced Rin like 2 chapters ago but I also...accidentally introduced Jeff without thinking about it last chapter so this pretty much had to be done lmao


	20. Teenagers by MCR

It hadn’t taken long for Legion to settle into their new lives after The Entity had separated them.

They had been curious about the whole situation, quick to ask her questions, wondering about the others like them and the other places they could venture. The four teenagers slipped comfortably into their new lives once the shock of losing everything else had worn off.

A little too comfortably, maybe.

“I- I’m-” Susie gasped, eyes wide and she grabbed onto her sleeve and dragged her towards the woods at the edge of her property. “I’m so sorry to bother you and I know you told us to stay put, but she got Julie and she won’t give her back.”

“Who’s got Julie?”

“The- the witch! The swamp witch! She knocked her down and- and just tore her apart.” She began to pull her faster, frantically. “Frank’s been trying to get her back for a long time but she’s sitting beside the body and won’t let any of us come close!”

She grunted. “And what were the four of you doing in the swamp?”

“Please don’t be mad, we just wanted to-”

They both fell silent as they crossed the foggy barrier and the humidity from the swamp enveloped them. She wrinkled her nose at the buzzing of flies and the squelching of mud beneath her feet, so slick she had to remind herself to treat carefully.

The walk was short, the two of them quickly climbing the rickety stairs of The Pale Rose and meeting up with the small group as everyone stood around, tense.

It was the standoff that had been described, that much was clear immediately, Lisa crouching over the mangled corpse and watching the eldest boy with eyes unwavering.

“Lisa, hey,” she had said, maybe a little too chipper given the unpleasant circumstances.

“Cut to the chase, Entity’s pet.”

She blinked, confused. She had came prepared to negotiate, of course, but she figured she’d at least have the time to make it through the pleasantries before Lisa was on her. “I’m sorry?” She asked, suddenly scattered.

“Do not bother with your innate charms. You want the body, correct?”

“The body...would be nice to have, yes,” she said slowly, eyes flitting to the mangled corpse at her feet. It was as Susie had told her but worse.

“First they must pay.”

She raised her hands, a common defensive gesture she had noticed herself taking on a lot lately. “Look, Lisa, they’re just dumb rebellious teenagers-”

“Hey!”

“They vandalized my home,” Lisa said with a hiss, uncurling from her crouched position, claw flexing dangerously at her gaunt hip. “The only place I have in this world that is truly mine and they vandalized it with their spray paint and their graffiti.”

She hummed, turning to the teenagers. “That true?”

None of the teenagers would meet her eyes.

“How about an apology? I know it’s not much, but what if I come back later and personally clean up their mess?”

Lisa thought about this for a moment, eyeing the three teens that stood nearby. “I suppose,” she said finally. “Though their livers would mean far more to me.”

Joey and Susie stepped forward then, almost in unison, apologizing profusely as if this was something they were used to doing.

Frank scoffed.

“Frank?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes. “Care to apologize with your friends so we can have Julie back?”

“Or I could just go over there and take her.”

“Oh yeah? And how well has that been working?” She asked, almost laughing.

“Shut up,” Frank growled, brandishing his knife in front of him now. “I’m not going to be made to apologize to this _witch_ like some kid.”

She and Lisa looked at each other then, as if coming to a silent agreement. “Alright,” she shrugged. “Why don’t you go and try to take her, Frank?”

Frank got less than four feet away from Lisa before the woman leapt, using the full force of her body to knock the boy to the mud. Her teeth were at his throat immediately, ruthless, her claws in his abdomen as he turned to face her, his mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

At Susie and Joey’s cries of horror, she stepped forward quickly, kneeling down to lift Julie out of the mud and into her arms. “Let’s go,” she whispered harshly, passing the other two teenagers who still stood with their mouths hanging open.

“But Frank-”

“I’ll come back for him later,” she said, bustling towards the realm’s exit. “But in the meantime, you guys have _got_ to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?” Came the innocent reply.

“You know damn well what; abusing the fact that you’re not tethered to just one of The Entity’s realms.”

It wasn’t all that long ago that the excitement of ‘realm hopping’ had begun with the four teens. They were excited to leave Mount Ormond, excited to see what other interesting places The Entity had within its grasp.

 

* * *

 

Their run-in with Evan had been the first but certainly not the last.

“Sorry,” Evan said sheepishly, one teenager under each arm and the two others limping behind him as he climbed the stairs to meet her. “There were four of them. Just assumed they were a survivor group.” He frowned, gently setting Susie and Joey on their feet. “They don’t look much like the rest of us, you know? Awfully small.”

She had lead the five inside and sat them down in the living room before jogging to get her medical supplies.

She watched as Evan worked apologetically, wrapping the teenagers’ ankles with more gentleness than she had seen the man exercise thus far.

 _‘I’m not sure why you’re bothering. They’ll be fine once they step foot back onto Mount Ormond,’_ The Entity said, unfurling in her head, speaking suddenly as if tired of merely watching. _“Though it couldn’t hurt to let them suffer a bit first. Might teach them a lesson.”_

“Don’t go to the Macmillian Estate,” she would later tell them, pointing at the group with one stern finger. “Evan is a nice enough guy, sure, but there are bear traps _everywhere_ and you _will_ step in them.”

 

* * *

 

Their second run-in was in Haddonfield, the four treated much less gently after being caught spray painting their gang sign on the side of a certain suburban home. The jack-o-lantern’s grin drawing them in, they would claim later.

Michael had dropped the two dead teens at the foot of her bed at what might have been three that morning, if time was a concept that still mattered. She awoke with a start, their still-warm blood seeping into her socks and the bottoms of her pajama pants.

Her brain short circuited, struggling to wake itself up even as Michael loomed over her.

“What the fuck, man?” She had groaned, half asleep, wiggling her feet away from the bodies.

Michael -predictably- had nothing to say for himself.

She looked down at the pair in mild disgust, more perturbed at having been woken up than at the bodies themselves. She blinked at them slowly, a scowl curling across her lips. What were you supposed to do with corpses again?

With hands still uncooperative from sleep, she began the tiresome process of wrapping the bodies in her blanket, grunting in irritation. “Help me with these, would you, Michael?”

Michael tilted his head at her, otherwise unmoving.

“Michael, buddy, please.”

He blinked once to acknowledge that he had heard, a slow opening and closing of his eyes behind his mask, before lifting the bundle of teens easily over his shoulder.

“Okay, now, where are the other two?”

He tilted his head at her again.

Huh. Maybe he hadn’t seen them.

When they crossed the threshold between her realm and that of the teenagers, Michael gave a grunt, immediately dropping the squirming blanket onto the ground.

“Oh, hey!” Susie called from the other side of the gate. “We were wondering when you two would get back.”

“We died didn’t we?” Julie asked, kicking her way out of the blanket and narrowly avoiding kicking Frank in the head. “Not a great feeling.” She was surprisingly nonchalant given the circumstances, given the blood that stained her clothes.

“How did you two get away?” Frank questioned, sitting up and pulling at his clothes where they still clung to his chest, sticky with blood.

“We uhh, we-”

“You ran, didn’t you?” Julie asked with a laugh. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“You two are fucking cowards.”

“No, no,” she corrected. “Those two are clearly way smarter than either of you two.”

Julie huffed but said nothing, crossing her arms over her chest as Frank seethed beside of her.

“This is Michael,” she said, gesturing to the large man as he loomed over her. “ _Don’t_ mess with Michael and _don’t_ go to Haddonfield.”

Later when she would recall the situation, she was reminded of a cat bringing it’s ungrateful owner a dead bird and was able to laugh.

 

* * *

 

“You might want to do something about the teenagers.”

That was something everyone had taken to immediately, much to the group’s displeasure. It was never Legion, it was always ‘the teenagers’, as if they were being belittled just for existing.

She inhaled deeply, her eyes rolled skyward as she set the half-finished totem aside. “What did they do now?”

“Ehh,” The Entity said. “Less about what they did and more about where they went.”

“Well, where did they go?”

“Lery’s.”

_“Shit.”_

She had arrived as quickly as she could, following the sounds of screaming and raucous laughter towards the treatment theater in the center of the maze that was Lery’s.

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry! Let us go and you’ll never see us again, please, we promise!” Joey pleaded, turning his head sharply from the shiny medical instrument as it stopped, just short of his face.

The man laughed, wild and unrestrained as he brought his weight to rest on the chair between the teen’s thighs, balancing at the edge of the uncomfortable metal seat on his knee as to loom over the boy easier. “Now, now, there’s nothing to cry about. Sit still and it’ll be quick, I promise, just as quick as it was with your friends.”

“Herman.”

“Hm?” The man said.

“I’m going to have to ask you to let the teenagers go.”

At this Herman turned to her, as if confused. “These children were a gift from The Entity to further my research.”

She shook her head, bending slightly to examine Susie with her soft cries and lolling head. “No, they’re just rambunctious teenagers out for a little realm exploring.”

At this, the man seemed disappointed. “Ah,” he said. He turned around again, showing her his back as she moved on, examining Frank next. “Like I told the boy though, if he’d just sit still, I’ll make this very quick.”

“No, no, no, nononononono-” the boy cried, tugging hard against the restraints at his ankles and wrists. “Please, you’ve gotta get me out of here, please, please-”

“It’s okay now, Joey, shh,” She straightened her spine, moving between the large man and the smaller teenager where he was strapped in. “Can’t let you do that, Doc.”

“A shame,” Herman hummed. “Perhaps next time then.”

She had wheeled Julie out of Lery’s with a barely conscious Joey on her back, the boy clinging so tightly to her that she almost couldn’t focus to push the wheelchair. The Doctor was beside of her, Susie under one arm and Frank under the other as he effortlessly carried the unconscious teens to the exit gate.

“And remember, children: you’re always welcome at Lery’s.”

She leaned down, bringing her mouth close to Joey’s ear. _“Don’t go to Lery’s,”_ she hissed.

 

* * *

 

“What is with you four?”

Joey looked away, rubbing slowly at his bicep in discomfort as she eyed him.“We’re not trying to be hard headed, we’re just…”

“It was my idea,” Julie confessed, a small frown tugging at the corner of her lips. “Do you know what it’s like to live in one shitty place your whole life?” She looked down, pulling harshly at one strand of hair, frustrated. “And then imagine you’re sucked up by some horrible thing and you think ‘hey, this obviously bites but maybe I’ll never have to see Mount fuckin’ Ormond again’ and then lo and behold, that’s where you’re meant to be for the rest of eternity?”

She nodded, sympathetic as she placed a hand on the girls shoulder. “If you would have just told me that you guys wanted a new place to hangout, I could have helped you out sooner. I think the old Thompson house could be a good match,” she said. “I mean if we cleaned it out and moved in some new furniture.”

“Thompson house?”

“It’s old and creaky but it’s a change of scenery. And it’s warmer than the lodge.”

“And no one lives there?”

She thought of Max and his room with many windows. “No, not for some time.”

“Like no one at all?” Susie asked.

“Not a single crazy person?” Joey chimed in.

“Right, no one,” she confirmed. “It’s pretty junked up right now but I think with some proper cleaning, it could be something for the four of you.” She paused. “No graffiti though, am I clear?”

“No graffiti,” the three teens agreed in unison, three sets of fingers crossed behind their backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name is a reference to an art piece on tumblr by zoruui!
> 
> And thanks again for all the lovely comments! You're all awesome and I'm grateful for every one of you!
> 
> Also also, I rewrote the first chapter of this fic as it was short and I felt like it was lacking in comparison to certain other chapters. I’ll probably be rewriting a few more before it’s over with.


	21. The Quell (Part One)

“We’re not doing it anymore.”

“Doing what, David?”

“This, any of this,” the man snapped.

She hummed, unbothered as she continued piecing together the offerings the survivors would bring into the next trial. “It doesn’t really work like that, bud.”

“It does now,” Feng said, stepping forward. “We’re not participating in any more trials.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t just Feng and David. Their plan spread like a disease, infecting even the most mild mannered survivors until none of them were participating in trials.

They would stick to the edge of the realms, hiding from whatever The Entity would throw at them, refusing to repair generators or even startle crows. They used no offerings, and more importantly shed no blood, something that The Entity especially took great offense to.

It was only after three of these stalemate trials that The Entity became furious.

“They want to hide so bad?” The Entity hissed, taking the form of a black crow as it hopped around her, it’s feathers ruffled. “I wonder how they’ll do with two pairs of eyes searching for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Two killers, four survivors, one trial after another. If they don’t want to do generators, fine. They’ll be dead before they get the chance to touch them.”

“Seems a little severe.”

“Oh, you’ll be joining them.”

She stopped short, the statement so unexpected she almost laughed. “And why am I being punished when I didn’t do anything?”

“That’s exactly right,” The Entity snapped, more angry perhaps than any time she had heard it before. “You didn’t do _anything._ You _let_ this little uprising happen.”

“I tried to stop it!”

“You didn’t catch it when it was a cinder and now it’s a raging wildfire,” the bird clicked. “I think that you’ve gotten so caught up in your friendships and your comforts that you’ve forgotten your purpose.”

She thought back to her first meeting with The Entity, the memory miraculously bright, shining like a beacon in a sea of memories that seemed foggy by comparison.

“Better for both parties, we agreed. And a killer that gets no kills is no happy killer.”

 

* * *

 

When she came to in the trial, her heartbeat already deafening in her ears, she knew The Entity was taking her punishment seriously.

She ducked down immediately, turning in place. When her eyes met those of The Clown, she could feel any prior confidence leaving her on fluttering wings.

“Kenneth,” she said, straightening herself. Her voice was even.

“It’s Jeffery,” the man grinned, lopsided and dirty. “Are you sticking around for the trial?” The Clown mocked. “Going to kill yourself?”

“Kill me yourself, pussy,” she snarled.

From behind her eyes, The Entity laughed.

“Gladly,” the man said, a sneer curling his lip. “And I bought only the best for you, girlie.”

They moved at the same time,the clown going right while she went left. The bench was comically small between them, easily to vault if the clown decided to try. She took off suddenly towards the Myer’s house, bolting up the stairs two at a time as the man chased, her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She headed into one of the small rooms and ducked down low, making herself as small as possible as the large man miraculously passed her by.

Suddenly, she felt a strange pull, felt her head lolling, heard strange singing…

Shit.

“That your type, sweetheart?” The dream demon said. His voice was as teasing as he needled her, his posture casual as he leaned against the wall to her left.

“Not mine, Krueger,” she said, eyeing him carefully from her position still hunkered down in the corner. “Yours?”

The man leaned in, tilting her chin up with one sharp claw. He grinned at her with twisted lips, dragging the razored claw under her chin from one side to the other.

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to someone holding your life in their hands? Even I have standards,” he spat. He drew his claws across her chest, the action quick and harsh, opening up four fresh wounds that stung and immediately ran red.

She cried out, making for the window suddenly but greatly underestimating the smaller man’s speed.

He grabbed her mid vault, surprisingly strong as he hauled her back into the house. He turned leisurely with a grin, the perfect picture of a cat that had caught the canary. The man descended the steps with a cheerful spring in his step, carrying her through the door and down the driveway. “Now let’s get you on a hook, sweetheart.”

“Oh, a hook,” she grunted, twisting on the man’s shoulder in hopes of getting some traction. “How original.”

“What are you blabbering about?”

“It’s always hooks with you guys. Hooks this and hooks that…” she paused, a small grin tugging at her lips although she knew the man could not see. “Do you always do everything The Entity tells you to?” She laughed, a difficult action given her upside down position.

He dropped her suddenly, looming over her where she lay in the street. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it suddenly, a confused look crossing his face.

She grinned. She knew that look.

“It’s talking to you now, isn’t it? The Entity?” She asked.

The man looked over at her and said nothing, lip twitching as if trying very hard to listen.

Unless The Entity played its cards perfectly, Krueger would go off the rails, something she could absolutely use to her advantage.

“What’s The Entity saying, Krueger? Anything interesting?”

“I’m the most powerful trick you’ve got up your sleeve, bitch. You may have trapped me here but you don’t control me, I control me,” the man snapped suddenly, furious. “I do what I want when I want to. I’m done taking orders from some monster in the sky that’s too chicken shit to show themselves.”

She nearly laughed. Perfect.

When the clown turned the corner, his chest heaving and breath coming out in short, sour bursts, she had finally struggled to her feet. “Waiting for me to put you out of your misery, girlie?” The clown grinned, flipping his blade idly.

“As if I’d give you the satisfaction,” she said.

Freddy’s bladed hand was like a harpoon through her middle, sharp and unyielding as it carved through muscle and organ alike. She felt all the air in her lungs leave her in a rush, felt the slick heat of her blood as it poured from the fatal wound at her middle. Her hands came up, shaking, as if on reflex, to try to cover the hole, to try to stop some of the blood flow, but in the back of her mind she knew the action was useless.

 

* * *

 

With a deep breath, she dove both hands into the metal contraption. There were razors at her wrists, her forearms, tearing at the sensitive skin already stained with motor oil and grease. She breathed through clenched teeth, tears slipping from her eyes as she searched for the key that would bring her freedom from the grim invention that threatened to split her head in two.

When her fingers closed around the key, her heart soared in triumph, careless as she pull her arms back. The key was small, slick in her hands from blood as she struggled to keep it from slipping. The bit clicked into the slot finally and turned, opening the lock with a barely audible noise. She pulled the metal from her mouth, pulling the entire device haphazardly over her head before pitching it to the ground, tangled hair be damned.

She turned then, spying a generator that had been started and moving towards it, the pistons moving slowly and the sparks flying off indicating that it had been kicked recently. She dropped into a crouched position, wiping the blood coating her wrists and arms on her shirt before moving her hands to the generator.

“Boo,” came a voice from behind her.

She jumped, turning and bolting from the generator, her heartbeat suddenly roaring in her ears.   

Amanda laughed behind her, hot on her tail as she sprinted into a building and silently vaulted a window the way Meg had taught her. She ducked quickly beneath the windowsill, covering her nose and mouth with her hands in hopes of quelling the horrible, loud breaths in the otherwise silent realm. She crept forward slowly-

_SNAP!_

The trap was agony around her ankle, ferocious and sharp, cleaving meat and muscle easily as it snapped shut around her. She screamed, a wrenching sound unlike anything she thought she could make, struggling against the trap with blood-slick fingers as her heartbeat grew louder in her ears.

Evan hummed as he looked down at her, his mask betraying nothing as he bent at the waist, freeing her from the trap with ease.

“Did you bring your meanest traps?” She said through her tears, hands struggling at her ankle to staunch the blood flow.

“Just following orders,” the man grunted, tone edging on irritation. “Don’t know why you’re acting so coy about it now.”

“What orders?”

“Huh,” Evan said. “Guess that wasn’t you after all. Entity rounded us up and told everyone to bring in their best gear.” Here he paused, as if considering something. “It looked just like you but the eyes were off. Unsettling.”

_Snitch._

“Now, you already know this is nothing personal,” Evan said, remorse evident in his voice as he lifted her onto his shoulder.

Her eyes widened, hands scrabbling at his skin, his clothing, the horrible chunks of metal protruding from his frame. “No, no, no, Evan wait, let’s talk about this.”

He grunted as her hands found the metal at his shoulder, shifted her easily so she lost her grip. “Nothing to talk about,” he said.

She yelled, fists pounding on the large man’s back and her injured foot dangling weakly at his front. She turned the best she could, saw the hook drawing near and screamed again, pleading. “Evan, Evan please, it doesn’t have to be like this, Evan-“

He shifted her again, hissing at her from behind his mask. “Stop using my name.”

“Or what? You’ll put a hook through my back?” She hissed in return.

As he shifted her again, she found herself falling. The ground called to her, sweet freedom, and she struggled to right herself, shifting her hands and feet below her to catch her fall. She miscalculated the distance, miscalculated the strength of her flayed ankle, body landing sideways on the hardwood of the basement stairs and knocking the wind out of her.

“Just kill me,” she wheezed, tears sliding from the corner of her eyes to the hard stairs beneath her. “Feng won’t come for me in the basement anyway.”

“Oh, stop that now,” Evan said, crouching to lift her again. “Stop crying, I’m sure she will.”

“She won't,” she said. “And she’s the only one left. She’s too smart to throw away a potential victory on me, especially with you and Amanda both here like this.”

“A shame,” Evan replied, voice edging on genuine sympathy. “Deep breath, now.”

Before she could process what had happened, the hook was in her back, protruding from between her ribs. She screamed, going limp, as if all the strength had be sapped out of her. With The Entity’s power, she could see Feng across the map, running, scouting perhaps for the hatch that would buy her escape.

She grabbed the hook with great effort, halfheartedly trying to free herself from it. She tried again, twice more, a sob stuck in her throat as her fingers struggled to grasp through the gore.

The Entity was on her quickly after that, it’s appendages descending and piercing her body, much the same as the hook did. She felt impossibly cold, felt her eyes roll skyward in her head. She thought she saw something once, a skittering darkness as she was taken that seemed to miraculously heave its bulk just out of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this with the next chapter please!


	22. The Quell (Part Two)

When she saw the large, familiar man, she froze.

She remembered how the last trial with him had gone, the sheer power he had exuded and the ugly criss-crossing of scars across her back. She had been devastated by The Entity’s actions, how she had made her unrecognizable to the man she had spent so much time with.

When he dropped his chainsaw onto the concrete and rushed towards her, for a moment she was unsure what to do.

He lifted her into his arms easily, squeezing the much smaller woman to his chest. He brought his face to her neck and gave a hiccuping sob.

“Oh,” she said dumbly, wrapping her arms around him in turn. “You can see my face?”

He sat her down carefully, shaking his head. His large hands reached out, finding the bottom of her blouse and tugging gently,

“Clothes,” she said slowly before the realization hit. “Clothing! My clothing! Bubba you’re so smart!”

_That’s pushing it._

He beamed at her, lifting her again into his arms and swinging her in a wide circle before setting her back onto her feet.

“Okay now, Bubba, I know it’s going to be hard but you’ve got to go do your job or The Entity is going to get mad. Understand?”

The man nodded, an enthusiastic up and down motion of his head.

She turned from him then, making her way down the nearby staircase and creeping along the cold, narrow halls. When her heartbeat never slowed, she turned, confused at first to see the man not even ten steps behind her.

“Bubba,” she whispered, voice edging on urgent as she struggled to speak above the roar in her ears. “Bubba, pal, you can’t follow me.”

At this, the large man seemed confused.

“You’re going to get in trouble, understand? We both have jobs we have to do.”

He followed her into the dingy bathroom on the bottom floor of the meat packing plant, standing patiently nearby as she struggled with adrenaline-fueled fingers to repair the old generator.

When Lisa dropped down from the hole in the ceiling, they both startled, the generator exploding under her careless fingers. She turned to run but was caught easily, lifted into strong arms.

“Bubba you’ve gotta let me go!” She whispered furiously, her voice edging on panic. “She’s going to gut me if she gets ahold of me!” She struggled hard against the man that held her to his chest, wanting her freedom but hesitant to do anything that may injure the man.

When she finally settled and turned her gaze to the other woman, it was to Lisa staring at the pair of them with sharp eyes. “Bubba,” the woman said. “Put her down.”

He turned away from her, disobedient, shielding the smaller woman with his body. Slowly, he shook his head.

“You put him up to this, didn’t you, Entity’s Pet?” Lisa hissed, circling the pair.

“I didn’t!” She cried, wiggling in the man’s hold. “I tried to tell him to go but he just kept following me!”

When Lisa came too close, there was a moment of surprise as Bubba swung his mallet at her in warning, relatively non threatening but a warning nonetheless.

Both women were taken aback at the action.

“Bubba!” She cried, struggling again to free herself. “No swinging at Lisa!”

There were footsteps outside the door then, quick in their arrival and just as quick in their departure, as if they had heard their own heartbeat roaring in their ears and decided to play it smart.

“We’ll finish this later,” Lisa said, maneuvering easily around the two and heading for the open bathroom door.

When Lisa hooked the third and final survivor and The Entity claimed it’s prize, she and Bubba both looked at each other as they heard the hatch open nearby. They turned the corner carefully, the pair wary of  any traps and even more wary of Lisa as they paced the length of the small hallway. The pounding of her heart had not quieted at all since Bubba had found her, the howling of the hatch a barely audible noise above the roar in her ears.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” she frowned at the man, dropping into the hatch and immediately into the next trial.

 

* * *

 

When the other two survivors working on the generator with her left suddenly, it took her a few moments to figure out what the cause was.

“Oh, hi, Michael,” she said, unsure if she should stay or if she should go. “Been there long?”

The man predictably said nothing in return, merely taking a slow step closer to where she still crouched by the generator.

“Michael?” She asked hesitantly. “You’re not stalking me right now, are you?”

Again he gave no response, merely watching.

She thought of standing up, of leaving the generator, but wasn’t sure if that would encourage him to give chase or not. The generator was almost done anyway, and considering the hard work she had put into repairing it, she wasn’t keen on leaving.

“You sure have been stalking me for a long time,” she hummed, casual though the situation did not call for it.

Suddenly something clicked in the back of her mind, like a key finding home.

He had been stalking her for a very long time.

She rose from the generator slowly, turning to find the man much closer than he was before. “Michael…” She said slowly, stepping away from the towering man. She backed up until she couldn’t anymore, until her back hit the generator, it’s pistons pounding away behind her. “Michael, buddy, you wouldn’t happen to have a tombstone piece, would you?”

When the man took one final step towards her, she bolted, suddenly terrified.

The man’s knife came up, hovering above her head for only a moment before she was being lifted off the ground by her throat. He drew the knife backwards before shoving it forwards, the tip of the blade nearly piercing completely through to her back.

She gasped, crying out, a strange sound with her now-punctured lung. She extended her arm, one hand balled into a fist as she hammered at the man’s shoulder, as if that would be enough to get him to release her.

On the second stab, so deep that felt the curl of his hand against the mess that was her middle, he pulled her closer, their eyes meeting for only a moment before he tossed her body away.

From the other side of the junk heap, Phillip shook his head. 

 

* * *

 

“No more, no more,” the Feng cried, eyes pricked with tears as she turned her face skywards. “We’re sorry, we’ll cooperate, we’re sorry!”

“We’ll do the generators, we’ll do trials, we’ll do whatever you want. Please let us rest!” Laurie said.

“And why should you rest when the fun is only just beginning?”

It was a strange sight, The Entity taking her form.

It was like looking in a mirror almost, eerie, the same but not. The clothing was unfamiliar to her, unlike anything she had seen hanging in her closet, black with mesh at the neckline and a long skirt with dark feathers. It was barefoot as The Entity tended to be when it made a very rare human appearance, as if shoes were either beyond it’s grasp or simply beneath it.

David looked between her and The Entity, unsure. “It was my idea,” he said. “All of it was my idea.”

“It wasn’t just his idea, it was mine too!” Feng piped up.

“And mine!”

She wondered briefly how all the troublemakers had ended up in the same trial, as if The Entity knew down to the moment how long it would take each of them to crack. She wondered what they had been through, wondered how the trials had gone for them.

“I was trying to keep you two from any more trouble,” David hissed at the two girls.

“It’s The Entity, it already knows the full story,” Laurie hissed back, stepping away from David as he tried to push the two girls behind him protectively.

“How nice it is that you’ve all learned your lesson,” The Entity said, bringing it’s hands together as it laughed, a hollow sound that felt wrong. The Entity turned away from the trio then, dropping its fake smile as it fixed her with it’s strange stare. “Clean this up, I’ve got better things to do.”

And then as quickly as The Entity had appeared, it was gone, leaving them with only cold air and a slight breeze that ruffled their hair and clothing.

“Well?” She said finally, brushing the dust and grime from an old wooden wire spool as she took her seat. “What’s up, you guys?”

“I don’t know,” Laurie said after a moment. “I just thought...we just thought....you know things are so rough...”

She frowned, sympathetic. “I mean you guys are in a terrible situation, no doubt, but you can’t deny that you’ve come a long way from a single pair of bloody clothes and a cold campfire.”

“But I miss the real world, I want to know what’s happening out there.” Laurie said, crossing her arms over her chest to hold her upper arms. She looked to the exit gate nearby, wished she could just step through it and go home. “I feel so disconnected from everything here in this place, like nothing is real, like nothing that happens matters.”

“Newspapers,” she said suddenly. “I know it’s not much but what if I brought you newspapers?”

Laurie brought the heel of her hand to one eye, brushing away a single tear that had fallen. “That...that would be incredibly helpful, thank you.”

“David?” She asked. “What about you, man?”

“I don’t like that I can’t fight back,” David said, eyes trained on the ground and voice strained, as if it hurt him to speak.

“I can teach you how to fight back,” Laurie replied, confusion evident in her voice. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this, David?”

“Because it’s just hard sometimes, you know?” David said, bringing both hands up to his hair and scratching idly at the sides of his head. “I’m supposed to be this big tough guy. Never had to ask for help from nobody. I’ve been fighting my entire life and then suddenly I’m here and I’m nothing.”

There was a brief pause as everyone looked away, polite.

“I miss video games,” Feng blurted suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention from the vulnerability of the situation. “It sounds dumb, sort of, when I say it now but they were my outlet for stress relief and I can’t find anything that comes close.”

“I can get you video games,” she said easily. “I mean obviously I can’t make anything with internet work but video games, I can definitely make happen.”

The look on Feng’s face was pure joy as she crossed to the old wire spool she was sitting on and wrapped her arms around her. “I don’t care what the other’s say about you, you’re cool in my book.”

“Thanks?” She responded slowly, unsure if she was receiving a jab or a compliment. “Now is there anything else? Are we good here?”

The three survivors looked between each other, as if trying to find something else to bring up.

“No,” Laurie said finally, bashful almost at how quickly all their problems had been solved. “That’s everything.”

She gave a firm nod before turning, making her way to the closed exit gates. She placed her hand on the huge door, the metal buzzing to life under her fingers. “Now remember,” she said, pulling hard on the handle. “The Entity may not see you as people, but I do. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. Don’t be afraid to ask for things. I’m a person, too and I understand.” She paused, moving her hands to her pocket almost awkwardly. “You all should go home.”

“But the trial-”

“I don’t think this was ever a trial,” she replied. “Now go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read this chapter with the one before it! Thanks!
> 
> This was fun! Some killer combos that didn't make the cut: Nurse + Hag (Trap? What trap?), Spirit + Hillbilly (They deserved better!!!), Huntress + Clown (YEET!), Doctor + Freddy (WELCOME TO HELL), Legion + Spirit (I'm fast as fuck boiiiii). Also the Michael + Wraith combo is called "whose terror radius is it anyway?"


	23. Bear With Me

Anna was touchy. Having raised herself from the point of her mother's death, she was fairly unfamiliar with personal space and boundaries. She touched freely and without hesitation, quick to hold another's hand, especially with other women.

"I am sorry about your eye," Anna said, one hand pressed lightly to the side of her face. She inspected the area with her thumb, lightly tracing where she had planted her hatchet what seemed like eons ago. "But I like what The Entity has done. Very scary."

"Oh, thanks," she said, pulling her crow mask down over her face self-consciously.

“Hunters wear masks,” Anna had told her earlier, before their little adventure had well and truly began. “So animals will think we are like them.”

It had been some time now since Rin had started teaching Anna the ins and outs of english, the results impressive. Anna had been a quick study it seemed, and Rin had been very pleased, the pair spending lots of time practicing together.

"That is wrong way to hold hatchet," The Huntress said, sidling up behind her and encircling her with massive arms. She placed large, calloused hands over her own, sliding her hands into the correct position to properly wield the weapon.

The smaller woman felt her heart flutter.

She made a few practice throws, the first two failures but the third less so, the hatchet barely connecting with the large piece of wood she was aiming at.

"Maybe we should start with something easy," she paused, turning the hatchet over in her hands. "Like rabbits."

"You are not yet skilled enough for rabbit," Anna laughed, adjusting her own hatchets at her belt.

They trekked for some time, only stopping when they reached the preferred hunting ground. The Red Forest was larger in it’s hunting state, as was requested by Anna some time ago. There was plenty of room to house the various creatures she loved to hunt, from rabbits to deer, elk to-

"Is that a fucking bear?" She whispered furiously, gripping the hatchet in both hands as she edged away from the clearing. "I don't remember giving you a bear."

"The Entity gives me often what you will not," Anna whispered back, reaching behind her and easily maneuvering the smaller woman back into place. "Now wait for nose to drop and throw hatchet hard."

"Anna, I've had like no practice, there's no way I'm going to be able to take down an entire bear."

"That is what I am here for," the huge woman said, pressing her forward gently with one large hand on her lower back. "Steel yourself, small one."

The massive bear dipped it's head down, sniffing at the ground.

"Now."

She threw the hatchet as hard as she could, only partially surprised when it bypassed the bear completely, burying itself in the soft ground up to the hilt.

"How embarrassing," The Huntress laughed, even as the bear charged the pair. She widened her stance, steeling herself as the bear rushed towards them.

"Anna-"

"I will handle this," she said, lunging forward just as the bear came into range and slamming her hatchet down hard, easily splitting the skull.

The hatched connected so solidly that the bears body -still in motion- skidded briefly before coming to a stop beside the smaller woman.

She looked at the fallen beast in awe. Were all bears this big? Had Anna been hunting them by herself?

“Do you always hunt bears?”

“Not often. For special occasions only.”

“Special occasions, huh? Got something planned later?”

Here Anna laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to her chest. “Is hunting with small friend not special occasion enough?”

“I suppose,” she hummed, turning to look at where the massive animal still lay. “Though I’d be surprised if that’s all there is to it.”

“It is ladies night,” Anna said, accent stronger than ever as she dragged the massive bear behind them on a makeshift sled they had fashioned together out of some sticks and twine. “It is my turn to host and others have not tried bear.”

“Ladies night?”

“Ahh,” Anna replied, almost sheepish as if she had spilled some big secret. “Do not tell others I told you. Event is for only hunters.”

“Hunters only?” She echoed, confused.

“Ah, um, killers,” the large woman clarified. “Is for killers only.”

Oh, that made sense.

“Who all comes?”

“Sally, Lisa, Amanda, Rin...all but the young ones,” she said pausing, as if thinking to herself. “Though I suppose they will be young for some time.” Anna turned to her then, a smile tugging at her lips. “You ask many questions.”

“Sorry,” she shrugged. “Just nosey, I guess.”

“Nosey?” The other woman echoed, unsure of the meaning.

“Oh, it just means I’m too curious about business that isn’t my own.”

“Oh,” Anna laughed, reaching out to grab her nose playfully. “You are very nosey indeed.”

 

* * *

 

Later when there was a knock at the door, she turned her head towards it slowly. It was late, the sun having long since set and her housemates settled for the night. She marked her place in her book, lowering her socked feet from the coffee table and standing, popping her back in the process. She crossed to the door thoughtfully, hesitating by the coat rack for only a moment before opening it.

Anna brushed by her with a friendly greeting, hands full as she made instantly for the large table that sat adjacent to the door and near the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Anna,” she said, sniffing the air curiously. “You’re out late.”

“Yes?” Anna replied, a strange lilt to her voice. “I am sorry if that is not good.”

“No, it’s fine. What have you got there?”

“Just thinking that if you helped to _kill_ bear that you should also get to _eat_ bear,” Anna said, removing the lid from what had to be a borrowed pot, the color such a soft pink that it looked almost white.

The smell was smokey, charred almost, the meat still pink and bright as she replaced the cap and passed her the entire dish.

“You did very good today although you threw terribly all of your hatchets.”

“Ah, thanks,” she said, a slight blush creeping up her face at the genuine praise.

Anna reached out, brushing her rough thumb across her one cheek, the action tugging lightly at the skin. The taller woman leaned in closer, as if inspecting the sudden redness that had climbed to settle just below her eyes.  “Why does your face heat so, small one?”

“Oh, um,” she stammered, pulling the food close and turning to make her way to the kitchen. “Just thought it was, um, really thoughtful of you to bring me this.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to face the woman again from a safer distance. “I’m very grateful.”

"You are terrible hunter," Anna said suddenly with a laugh. “You are bad at being a killer but you are good at other things. I am grateful for you as well.” She turned then, her hand on the doorknob. “Bear is best enjoyed with friends. Perhaps your friend would like some also.”

“My friend?”

Anna laughed again, a bright and friendly sound as she pointed to a place in the kitchen behind her.

Max closed the lid with a soft click. “It smelled good,” he said by explanation, entirely unapologetic as he reached up, fishing a clean plate from the overhead cabinet. “And she said I could have some.”

Anna was already out the door when she turned back to her, the woman down the front steps and crossing to the trees that would take her back to the Red Forest.

“Goodnight!” She called, both hands cupped around her mouth to carry the sound. “Thanks again!” She closed the door slowly, her hand lingering on the handle briefly before stepping away.

“You two seem to be gettin’ along well,” Max said around a mouthful of food. “How was hunting?”

“Hunting was…” She thought of Anna then, tall and strong, invading her space in ways that repeatedly pulled heat to her cheeks. “Hunting was fine,” she finished lamely. “Caught a bear.”

“Are you gettin’ sick or something? Your face is awful red.”

“That seems to be a popular observation today.” she said quickly, making for the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Save some bear for me and Bubbs, yeah?”

Max hummed, watching as the woman quickly climbed the stairs and disappeared from view. “Weird,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes emoji* 
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> I'm going on a little vacation so it'll probably be more than a week until my next update! Sorry!
> 
> Also, if you haven't read my prequel fic Middle Ground, please do as it kind of explains her entire situation lmao


	24. Gimme Gimme

_“I want this one,”_ Rin had hissed in Japanese, dragging a limp David to her chest. _“I deserve this.”_

_“Then you may have him.”_

It was sometime around the middle of the trial that everything had gone completely awry.

It wasn’t enough that the man paraded around shirtless, that his arms were solid or that his muscles rippled when he moved.

The final straw was when Rin placed him on a nearby hook and the man took it upon himself to take a deep breath and _unhook himself._

He had landed on his feet, raising his hand to the gory wound at his chest and turning to her, a triumphant grin on his face.

“I ain’t goin’ down that easy, princess.”

Rin had turned, moving immediately for the man. She had gotten within his range quickly, swiping at him with her katana.

The man had darted out of the way quickly, a laugh on his lips though he was beaten and bloody, as if this trial was nothing more than a fun game to be won.

A worthy adversary then.

Rin would enjoy this.

 

* * *

 

When the survivors had called her to their home with details of David’s strange disappearance, she had been quick to investigate.

She recalled the incident with Kate and The Clown not all that long ago, how she herself had pulled the songbird from the horrible man’s clutches.

She had searched the trial grounds for the man thoroughly -or as thoroughly as the meat packing plant could be searched, anyway- before frowning. She tried to recall who the last killer had been, what they could possibly want with the scrapper. Maybe he had gone too far and said something truly stupid to make someone angry?

“Got any hints for me, E? Cryptic riddles? Perhaps a gentle haiku?”

A bird cawed in her ear then, landing on her shoulder and flapping its dark wings.

 

_“A maple tree stands_

_Where a bloodline was shattered_

_Her fury still flows”_

 

“Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

Rin was a casual sight in her oversized pink cat sweater and her denim shorts, novelty ball cap twisted around to the back.

The Entity had been kind to Rin, appreciative of her hard work, choosing to remove the glass at her shoulder while she was at home to allow her a semblance of normalcy. Rin owned many clothes, sweaters and t-shirts, jeans and shorts, the resulting outfits making her appear very nearly human if not for her blue-tinged skin and her glowing white eyes.

“I never thought I’d be so glad to see you,” David said, throwing an arm around her shoulders when he spotted her. “I don’t think she speaks any English-”

“She is _fluent_ in English, David, if she’s been quiet, she’s just been messing with you.”

“You are no fun,” Rin piped up suddenly, finally deigning the conversation worthy of a response as David gawked at her from the other side of the room.

“If _that’s_ no fun then you’re going to hate what I have to say next.”

“I will not give him back,” Rin said, firm, her lip curling. “He was a gift from The Entity and I earned him.”

“Except that people don’t really belong to other people, Rin.”

“Your old rules do not apply here, Messenger,” Rin replied, casual as if they were speaking of something other than a human life. Slowly, a smirk curled her lips. “You may speak to The Entity if you please, though I do not believe it will see things your way.”

 

* * *

 

It was only later when she confronted The Entity that she began to realize what Rin had meant.

“So you just gave David away, huh?”

_I did._

“We talked about this, E, back with Dakotah and Anna, remember? You can’t just give a person another person.”

_Your survivor has been greatly lacking in his performance as of late. I saw no harm in passing him along._

“My survivor? When did they become my survivors?”

_I suppose around the same time you saw fit to question me about their care._

“E, listen-”

_This is not a child I have given away but a fully fledged adult. I would not have given him away had he been of any use to me._

“But-”

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

_I will hear no more arguments about this._

 

* * *

 

“David is _what_?” Quentin asked.

She frowned, moving her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on. “David didn’t ‘fulfill his purpose’ so The Entity gave him away.”

There was an uproar as everyone tried speaking at once, voices overlapping and indistinguishable from one another. She had gathered them all in the living area beforehand, the crowd much too large for a space that had seemed plenty big at the beginning. She made a small note at the back of her head to have their living spaces upgraded.

“Gave him away? Gave him away to whom?” Claudette asked, rising from her chair.

“Or what,” Nea added.

“Why didn’t you think to mention that we could be given away at any moment?” Jake chimed in from his spot distanced from the group, the man leaning casually against a support beam near the back of the room.

She pursed her lips. “You all know her as The Spirit.”

The survivors began chattering amongst themselves again, loudly and with a growing sense of panic.

“Jesus, that’s one of the worst ones,” Dwight said, bringing his fingernails to his mouth and rising from the sofa. He moved to the back of the couch, pacing, concerned.

“Every one of them is one of the worst ones,” Quentin replied.

“Is he okay?” Kate asked.

“What does she want with him?” Adam asked, his tone flat as he struggled to be heard above the others.

“Everyone slow down,” she said. “I’m handling it.”

“And how exactly are you handling it?” The oldest of the group asked.

She hadn’t spoken much to Bill before, the older man for the most part preferring to keep to himself, or at the very least away from her.

“What?”

“I asked how you were handling it, kid.” He said from his spot at the window, his cigarette glowing against the dark backdrop of night.

“Oh, um,” she turned to face the older man, “Well I talked to The Entity and-“

“Is that something you do often? Talk to The Entity?” The man interrupted, gruff, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

“As often as I need to, I suppose,” she answered, choosing her words carefully.

“Go on then. What’s your plan?”

“I tried negotiating with The Entity but it brushed me off. Apparently David hasn’t been performing well in the trials recently.”

At this, the survivors seemed uneasy and oddly quiet, as if the thought of being thrown away had never occurred to them.

“But I was thinking maybe -just maybe- I could negotiate with The Spirit instead. Like maybe there’s something I can do to make her not want David anymore.”

“I’m sure David is way ahead of you on that,” Feng snickered, giving a sideways glance at Dwight as he paced.

 

* * *

 

“Oh? You are visiting again so soon?” Rin asked, tapping her fingers on the table top of the kotatsu The Entity had given her. “Surely there are no ulterior motives here.”

The room was in shambles, shredded books and broken pottery strewn about the floor as if a tornado had blown through. The pictures on the wall were torn, crooked, their window frames smashed.

David stretched from his place under the blanketed table, muscles flexing in the lowlight. “Lovely to see you,” he said, “Come to take me home then?”

“It is amazing that you still have the energy to speak after destroying half of my home like an unruly pet,” Rin said, popping her gum as she thumbed through the book in front of her, bored almost. “Regardless, I will not budge.”

“Lady, I will make your life hell,” David said. His gaze was defiant but elsewhere, eyes trailing the shelves and floor as if looking for something else to destroy.

“Lady?” Rin echoed, almost disappointed but not entirely unsurprised. “What happened to ‘princess?’”

“Princess went out the window with my freedom,” he said. He pulled another book from the shelf then, tearing another handful of pages from it and throwing them up in the air, allowing them to fall around him like overly-large pieces of confetti.

“Ahh, what a shame. You are strong, David King, perhaps stronger than is good for you. You would make a good companion if only you would allow me to care for you,” Rin said. “I could give you a nice life here. You would never have to do trials again.”

“Sorry, lady. I’m more for blokes than birds if you catch my drift. And I’m nobody’s pet.”

“I do not catch your drift,” Rin said.

“Besides,” he looked to Rin’s two cats then, lying with their bodies halfway under the warm kotatsu, their tails flicking softly in enjoyment. “I’m more of a dog person anyway.”

At this Rin soured. “On second thought, you may have him back; I do not want him any longer.”

David puffed out his chest, trademark smirk creeping across his face as he paused, just shy of descending the stairs of the engawa. “And if I’m not ready to leave just yet?” The man teased.

She rose from her table then, book clutched in her hand. Her hair began to lift, raising from its cascade down her back, knocking her ball cap onto the floor as she faced the man. “David King, you will leave my home,” she hissed, advancing.

David moved a little quicker then, offering a small wave as he made for the exit gate. “See you in the trials, doll.”

Rin reached back, smoothing her hair to its original position. She bent at the waist then, picking her hat up and placing it back on her head, twisting the cap around backwards. “Goodbye, David. Goodbye, Messenger,” she said, the picture of cool indifference.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you okay?” Dwight asked, pulling away from the wall and making his way over immediately. He circled David once as if inspecting him before stepping aside and allowing for the inevitable curious onslaught of survivor questions.

“What did she want?” Laurie questioned.

“Did she do anything to you?” Nea piped up, hovering closer, curious.

“Everyone slow down, I’m back in one piece, ain’t I?”

Feng rolled her eyes, as if annoyed by the man’s nonchalance. “Yeah, but why are you back in one piece?”

“Don’t know,” David said with a grin. “Turned out I wasn’t her type, I guess. Can’t say that she was mine, either.”

“What do you mean her _type_?”

“Doesn’t matter” David replied, throwing an arm around Dwight. He pulled him close, a laugh on his lips as he tousled his hair. “Well? Did you guys miss me?”

“Nah,” Dwight answered, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “I knew you’d be back.”

“I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did,” Feng said, snickering.

“Speaking of which,” Ace interjected, speaking up from the other side of the room. “I do recall you lost the bet, girlie.”

As she looked around the common room, at everyone smiling and becoming reacquainted, she excused herself, slipping outside. She made her way down the steps and across the yard, listening to the thundering of raucous laughter, warm and overlapping as she disappeared into the fog.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still away on vacation but wanted to post a little something anyway!
> 
>  
> 
> I miss my laptop.


	25. Dream Theater

She had not been to the cinema in a very long time.

The walls were a deep red, luxurious as she made her way down the long hallway lined with strange images. She inhaled deeply, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air from the end of the long hallway. Her hands were full, she noticed suddenly, a small box of nachos in one hand and a drink in the other, both items holding weight as she paced the long hall. 

She stopped short, tilting her head slowly at the theater to her left, it’s doors wide open and the massive screen flashing inside. She entered the theater slowly but without caution, her eyes never leaving the flickering screen and it’s strange pictures as she took a seat.

The front of the theater was completely empty, she noticed, as were the seats beside and around her. She turned to view the rest of the theater then, eyes roaming over the hundreds of empty seats.

On the back row, she was barely able to make out a figure, tall and somehow still imposing even from a distance. She awkwardly lifted her hand in greeting, finding that the being on the back row mirrored the action, raising it’s hand at the same time she did.

“Was wondering when you’d finally decide to show that sweet face of yours.”

She jumped, forcing her eyes from the back row and finding the seat next to her.

“Oh,” she said, lip curling in obvious distaste. “Krueger.”

The man in question brought his clawed hand to his heart, face a mockery of sadness that had her rolling her eyes. “Aw, what’s the matter, babe? Not happy to see me?”

“I could do without,” she said, turning around in her seat to face the screen again. “What’s with the theater?”

“It’s dream theater, baby,” he said with flourish, wiggling outstretched fingers in some semblance of jazz hands. “Any dream that anyone has ever had in this godforsaken place is at my fingertips.” Here he paused, tilting his head in her direction as he scowled. “Minus those pesky survivors, of course.”

“Sounds invasive.”

“Oh, incredibly,” the man laughed. “But that’s just half the fun.”

With a wave of his hand, the massive screen at the front of the theater came to life. The image on the screen was strange, as if from an outsider’s perspective although it would seem that the two on screen were the only two in the room.

_The room was small and dark, windowless and dirty with various debris littering the floor. Max stood from his pallet on the floor quickly at the sound of feet on the basement steps._

“What is this?” She asked, frowning first in the direction the man beside her then back to the screen. She had known of Max’s past, of course, though she was not sure of the specifics. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat upon seeing the terrible conditions he was kept in, worse than any zoo animal.

_“Step back or you’ll be getting nothing from me.”_

_When the woman handed the plate through the small slot -barely waiting for him to wrap his fingers around it before pulling her hand away, as if burned- Max saw that the plate was empty._

_Max stared down at the piece of dishware, his already twisted face awash with confusion. “But-“_

_“Monsters get nothing,” the woman said, grinning as if pleased with herself._

_He felt the walls around him grow smaller, closing in until they almost touched his shoulders. He felt as his chest tightened, as he struggled to breath. Max gasped, panicked, his eyes finding the ceiling, now scant inches above his head._

_He reached for the small sliding door with fear in his heart only to find that it was gone, the entire door was gone, that he was really and truly alone now._

“What is this?” She asked again, more firm, turning to Freddy now with fire in her eyes.

“Boring is what it is,” Freddy said, waving away the image on the screen with his clawed hand.

The next image that appeared was that of a family, sitting around a kitchen table. Bubba was there, laughing, a strange sound that was easily interpreted.  

_The group laughed among themselves, jovial as they ate their dinner._

_“Now, Junior, don’t be rude, maybe our guest is hungry, too.”_

_Bubba gave an enthusiastic nod, rising from the table and then turning his head, freezing immediately._

_"You’re a monster,” the woman snarled, wrists raw from where she had been tugging at her bonds._

Was...was that her?

What the hell was going on?

_Bubba looked from the man at the head of the table then back to her, the woman sitting at the opposite end with her arms and legs tied to the chair. He shook his head firmly, moving his hands then as if to untie her._

_She flinched away but her eyes never left his, defiant. “Keep your disgusting hands off me.”_

_Bubba made a distressed noise then, clearly upset as he moved again to untie her._

_“Don’t touch me!” She yelled, causing the men at the other end of the table to hoot and holler, laughing as if she had told some great joke.“You and your whole family are-“_

“Boooooring,” Freddy said again. With a nonchalant wave of his claw, the screen changed again.

_Michael had been on her before she knew what was happening, his large hands finding her shoulders suddenly as the man used his bulk to maneuver her forcefully against the wall._

_She could hear him breathing heavily behind the latex of his mask, felt as he moved one large hand to her throat and squeezed, the pressure so sudden that she gasped. It was a choked off sound, small with his hand at her throat, her desperately grasping hands finding the front of his coveralls and twisting._

_She felt as he brought his free hand to her cheek, wiping with his thumb at stray tears that pricked the corner of her eyes before it moved on, questing further. His fingers slid into the back of her hair, soothing almost for a moment before he tightened his fist, his grip brutal._

_"Michael-” she gasped._

“Oh my god, what is this?”

“When it comes to dreams, I see all,” Freddy laughed. “You know exactly what this is.”

“Oh my god,” she said again, heat rushing to her cheeks as she recalled the dream on the massive screen.

_She cried out when the man gave a sharp tug, forcing her head back by her hair and inhaling deeply through the mask at the scent of her shampoo._

“Turn it off.”

“No,” came the smug grin.

_He brought his hands to her blouse then, tearing at the article of clothing in a way that had her teeth clicking together and her buttons hitting the floor. His breath was loud behind the latex of his mask, his hands rough and unforgiving as he found her side and squeezed, his short fingernails biting into her skin and making her gasp._

“I said to turn it off!” She yelled.

She felt a rumble under her feet then, one that seemed to startle the both of them. Freddy, however, was nothing if not the master of rebounding, quick to take things in stride and adapt.

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe,” the man said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. “We’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

She shoved him away hard, more heat rushing to her cheeks in anger when the man only laughed. “You mean _you’re_ having a good time, you absolute creep.”

_Michael dragged her close, enveloping her with his body. His arms coiled around her shoulders and waist, holding her immobile as if he were a snake and she was his prey. As she squirmed against him, her body sandwiched against his, he brought his thigh up between her own, knee pressed to the wall behind her. She groaned, the sound too loud in the otherwise quiet room-_

“I said to TURN IT OFF!” She howled, rising from her seat finally and throwing her entire drink in the other man’s face. “Turn this off right now or so help me god, I’ll turn it off my fucking self.” She snarled, so far wrapped up in her anger now that she couldn’t even enjoy the shocked look on the dream demon’s face.

Again, the theater rumbled underfoot, the force of her anger knocking asunder the large, velvety curtains flanking the screen. The small lights that marked the theater floor flickered restlessly, glowing brightly and then fading and then brightening again.

Freddy rose from his seat then, the man standing only inches above her as he scowled. The drink she had thrown bubbled on his skin, hissing and then dissipating in a puff of steam. “Yeah? And how to you plan on doing that?”

From the back of the theater, the figure watched.

The Entity had told her once that she held more power than she could possibly imagine. “Give... take away....unless I disagree with your decision, I won’t stop you,” it had said. “There are certain perks to being what you are. How you utilize them is up to you.”

With one final shout, their surroundings shattered like glass, leaving in its wake an empty black void that yawned around them. There were no longer seats or a screen or soft lights that lined the aisles, the popcorn smell that had drawn her in a thing of the past. Her eye glowed furiously in the otherwise dark space, as if it had been replaced with hot coals. The space around her was freezing, even in her sweatpants and long sleeved flannel, her breath coming out in a puff of warm air that hovered in front of her for a moment before dissipating.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Freddy hissed, fisting one hand in the collar of her dark shirt.

She brushed his hand away easily, a smug grin on her face. “Looks to me like I trashed your little theater. Whoops.”

“I _earned_ that,” he snarled.

“So earn it _back_ ,” she hissed, still furious as she turned on her heel, presenting him with her back. She gave a nonchalant wave of her hand then, mocking Freddy’s own actions from earlier as the man stared her down, seething.

As she disappeared into the void, she could just barely make out a cold, amused sort of laughter, not necessarily in her head but not necessarily outside of it.

“That was you watching, wasn’t it? In the theater?”

“I am always watching,” The Entity replied.

“Are you upset with me?” She asked. “For taking away something that he earned?”

“Of course not,” The Entity scoffed. “It was clear in that instance that he had no respect for you. I believe it was well beyond time for him to tread more lightly.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anywayyyyyyyyyyyyy
> 
> Shout out to my best friend and beta reader who has apparently been shipping the main character and Michael since like chapter three without telling me.


	26. Insecurities (Part One)

The wooden box was incredibly light in her hands, something she found very strange considering how full it actually was.

It wasn’t often that she delivered such powerful items in person, most of the time The Entity having them simply appear in a realm and having the killer search for the items themselves in some sort of scavenger hunt.

To her, the assortment of things looked like nothing, a pile of trinkets, or a flea market assortment perhaps. She spied a wooden horse and a metal spoon, a molar that had slid and settled into one corner of the box. And bottles; handfuls of bottles of all shapes, colors, and sizes, corked or with their caps twisted tight.

“Sally!” She called the moment she stepped foot outside of the exit gate.

She did not like to venture far when it came to the asylum. She found the atmosphere eerie, cold and unwelcoming, made worse by the looming presence of the woman that resided there.

Sally Smithson was one of the killers she had the hardest time placing. The woman hadn’t spoken any words to her, though from the other killers she knew that she was capable of speech. Sally paid her no mind except for in the ever-rare trial, when she would hunt her down viciously, even bypassing others to get to her.

“Bring them inside then, Rook.”

She jumped, the action making the strange bottles clink together in the box. She had never heard Sally speak before, the sound soft and almost breathy. “Rook?” She asked after a moment.

The pillowcase over her head was missing she noticed, revealing short, strawberry blonde hair that curled around her ears. Sally was shorter than she recalled, appearing much smaller, and after a quick glance downward, she found that the other woman did not seem to float here in her own realm.

Sally smiled at her then, the action never quite meeting her eyes. “A type of crow, in this context. And isn’t that what you are? Just another of The Entity’s crows?”

She pursed her lips but said nothing, following the woman into the burnt-out shell of a building.

She was surprised to say the least: Sally had never spoken to her before and this was what she chose to say now? She wondered what the change was about, why she was suddenly interested in speaking to her at all, unkindly at that.

As she set the box on the counter carefully, she stood there, choosing to take a moment to herself before facing Sally.

“Oh, dear,” the nurse said, her tone too sweet. “Your breathing is a little shaky. I didn’t upset you, did I?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good,” Sally grinned, clasping her hands together in front of her. “It’s so rare that we get to talk as is...it’d be such a shame to offend.”

She hummed in response but said nothing. She knew this game.

“It’s just that we wonder about you sometimes, the others and I.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, you know, small things…” the nurse said. “How did one so plain manage to draw The Entity’s attention? We -the others and I- often imagine that you were just a common crow with bigger plans. Perhaps you were never even a person at all,” she paused, a sharp smile creeping across her face. “But that’s just silly, isn’t it?”

There was a sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, a twinge of hurt that had her lips twisting downward before she could prevent  it. “Of course I was a person,” she said, grateful that the nurse was still to her back.

“Was?” Sally echoed with a soft smile, the action feeling entirely ingenuine.

“Am,” she corrected.

“Who were you, then, before the fog rolled in, Rook? Can you even remember?”

She was torn then, between proving Sally wrong and the desire to hide any and all personal information from her sharp, gouging fingers. “I remember plenty” she said vaguely.

The other woman hummed, stretching her arms outward. “The Entity has created all you see around us. You don’t think it could conjure up a few memories to instill within you?” At her silence, Sally continued, pressing ever closer. “Tell me, Rook, if you were human then what was your name?”

She froze, her back to the nurse and her hands still on the box.

How could she have forgotten her own name?

She turned then to face the other woman, carefully schooling her expression so as not to give her any satisfaction.

Sally laughed then, a strange sound that ended on a wheeze. “Your face may be calm but your breathing tells all,” she said, moving to stand by the old table. Sally began to peruse the box then, picking over the items with long, slender fingers, the satisfied smile never leaving her face. “You may leave now,” she said after a moment, dismissing her with a small wave of her hand.

 

* * *

 

As she returned home, Sally’s unkind words still ringing in her ears, she became aware that it was entirely possible the other woman was right. For The Entity, the fabrication of memories would be a snap.

Maybe she really was just a crow that had dared to dream.

“Why can’t I remember my name?” She asked later from her seat on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa, half completed totem nestled in her lap as she looked up at the massive black cat that lounged by the fireplace.

“You signed it over to me when we made our deal. It’s  _ our  _ name now. And names hold incredible power.” The large black cat paused in it’s grooming then, turning it’s bright red eyes in her direction. “Surely you didn’t let the nurse get to you.”

She hunched over, elbows on her knees as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Of course I let Sally get to me. But that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, right?” She laughed then, the sound scattered and bordering on hysterical. “I am just a stupid bird after all.”

“Now, now, don’t go upsetting yourself,” the feline said. “Crows are actually incredibly smart animals.” When she didn’t respond, the creature rolled it’s bright eyes, standing from its spot by the fire and stretching. “Lighten up, I’m just messing with you.”

She was quiet for a moment, mulling the situation over in her head. “Do the other’s really talk about me like that?”

The large cat hummed. “Occasionally the others will start to whisper,” it answered. “To them, you are a strange thing.” There was a pause as the large cat came closer, leaping onto the table in front of her. “I would not worry over those that speak ill of you.”

She was silent for a moment, mulling the ordeal over in her head.

On one hand this was The Entity, an all powerful being that very well could have fabricated her entire existence without blinking an eye. It hadn’t lied to her much since they had been working together, mostly a harmless prank here or there, just enough to make it laugh and make her look like a fool.  _ Sure, go on, of course it’s safe, Michael isn’t going to stab you....ha. _

Still, she couldn’t get the thought of her possibly fabricated existence out of her head.

“Stop that, I can feel you doubting me from here. I’m telling you, you were never a bird.”

“But-”

“I could make you a bird if I wanted to,” the feline said, fixing her with narrowed eyes. “Would that make you happy? Perhaps some shiny, bright feathers of your own?”

“No, I just-”

“I told you that’s enough.”

She closed her mouth quickly, unwilling to irritate The Entity further. “I’m going to bed,” she said after a quiet moment, rising from her seat on the floor and heading for the stairs.

She would think more about this in the comfort of her own bed.

 

* * *

 

Her dreams were restless, filled with dark fluttering wings and sharp beaks between bouts of tossing and turning.

When she opened her eyes to the first rays of sunshine through the curtains, she snapped to wakefulness immediately.

Something was very wrong.

The lamp was towering, her pillow much too large under her head. The tiny corner of the blanket that sat atop her was smothering almost as she struggled to sit upright. It was then that she caught sight of the small, grayscale feather on the pillow beside of her.

“Huh.”

She reached for it slowly and froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

“Oh christ, what did you do?”

_ I told you to drop it, didn’t I? I told you to stop questioning me but you wouldn’t,  _ The Entity said from somewhere within her.  _ Now look at you! You’re the bird you had it in your heart that you were. _

She flexed her wings, bent and unbent her small, clawed toes that seemed so strange compared to her own human feet. “This isn’t funny,” she squawked. She wobbled to her feet, giving a small experimental hop onto the mountain of blankets piled in front of her.

_ Do you hear a single shred of humor in my voice? _

“Listen, E, I’m sorry, okay?” She warbled, voice edging on panic. “I shouldn’t have let her get to me and I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

_ Not good enough, little bird. _

She could feel as her her feathers shifted and rose on her back, fluffing upwards defensively. What else could The Entity possibly want?

“Fine,” she snapped, moving towards the edge of the bed with a huff.

If this was The Entity’s game, she supposed she’d have no choice but to play along.

How hard could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I know that it's been a while but I had no idea it was over a month whoops.


	27. Insecurities (Part Two) ((The Shrike))

As it turned out, daily life as a bird was a very difficult thing indeed.

She had propelled down the side of the bed easily enough, using her clawed toes and beak to grip the knitted blanket.

She had stopped in front of her door, daunted at first, the obstacle puzzling her for only a moment before she realized that she was small enough to squeeze through the space underneath it.

The kitchen was an obstacle course all on its own, albeit an easy one, convenient shiny handles and hanging dish rags easy enough to hop up and grab and climb.

She had tried flying of course, somewhere between her room and the stairs, finding quickly that while she could use her wings to propel herself off the ground, she couldn’t get the timing quite right enough to keep herself in the air. She had chalked it up to a lack of instinct on the matter, this thing that even baby birds could do, and settled instead for small hops and the occasional wild fluttering of wings.

Her sharp toes produced only a small amount of noise on the counter top, clicking softly as she rounded the container of blueberries and fought to open the finicky plastic.

There were footsteps suddenly, heavy and hurried in their approach. That would be Bubba, she concluded easily. The man was a mess of constant manic energy, his movements never slowed or relaxed, even in his own home.

The already large man was massive now as he towered over her from her spot on the kitchen counter.

Huge hands closed around her suddenly, compressing her ruffled feathers gently and blocking out all light and air.

It was then that she realized that she was at the mercy of the man, a frightening thought that had her squirming under his fingers. “Bubba, it’s me!” She called, voice ending on a panicked trill. “Put me down!”

While Bubba was gentle under most circumstances, she had never seen him interact with birds. The thought alone was enough to send her small heart into overdrive.

There was a brief fumbling, awkward as she wiggled and was instead pressed with one hand to his chest. She poked her small head between fingers, blinking into the sunlight and the wind as the front door was thrown open.

“Bubba, wait, I’m not done inside-” she chirped, her strangely pitched voice catching in her throat.

He sat her down on the porch railing with great care, reaching forward with one large finger to pat her head. He turned then, making his way into the house with a smile and a small wave before closing the door behind him.

She huffed.

Guess she’d be starting the day early.

 

* * *

 

There was a rotation she normally stuck to, a visiting schedule to make sure that she was able to check in on everyone every few days. She considered skipping it, considered disappearing into the woods to find out what it is that birds truly did but thought better of it.

She decided against her already dreaded visit to the clown, her new feathers a grim reminder of the hyperfocus that lead him on his current path.

Rin was also out of the question as she wasn’t completely sure of her ability to avoid a cat if need be.

Michael, she was afraid, would simply rip her wings off all together.

“Why couldn’t Bubba hear me? Is that going to be a problem with the others?” She asked, making her way into the woods that served as a gate between realms.

 _No,_ The Entity said. _He was unable hear you due to his less than satisfactory bond with me. Rest assured, it won’t be a problem for the others._

“Why’s your bond so weak with him?”

Here The Entity hummed, it’s tone shifting easily to something more accusatory. _It would seem that our butcher has lain his loyalty elsewhere._

“Sorry,” she said, shivering now as the snow fell around her. It was always a strange thing, going between worlds, each one seeming to possess a different but equally charged energy.

It was no warmer inside Lery’s Memorial Institute, she noticed, something that had never bothered her as a (much larger) human.

She found Herman in the same place she normally did, hunched over the desk in his study as he poured over research he had no doubt read through countless times. The man’s face was without his usual gear, his dark skin without tension as his eyes roved the pages in front of him.

“Herman,” she said.

“Hm?” He answered absentmindedly, never lifting his eyes from his work.

She shuffled her small feet, suddenly unsure as she looked at the area around the desk. Not many places to jump to, she thought. Would it be strange to ask for a hand up?

“Yes?” The man asked, acknowledging again that someone had spoken.

“Down here, bud.”

When his eyes finally landed on her, she could practically see him running the calculations, tangible almost as he tried to process the new information.

“Oh,” Herman said after a moment, averting his eyes, his voice verging on laughter.

“It’s not funny, Herman,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Of course, of course,” the man said, covering his mouth with one hand, his grin widening further behind it. “Would you like a hand up?”

Ever the gentleman, she mused. “Please.”

He bent easily, resting his hand flat on the ground in front of her and staying very still as she hopped into his open palm.

As the man lifted her to eye level, he trailed a gentle finger over her wing and it occurred to her that with all of the doctor’s scientific curiosity that this might not have been the best idea.

“Oh, how interesting,” Herman said, gently extending one of her wings with his dexterous fingers. He turned her carefully in his hands, bringing his face close to hers In a way that had her looking away, almost shy. The man extended one finger towards her glass eye, unperturbed when she ducked under his exploratory touch. He then laughed, a raucous sound that erupted suddenly enough to startle her and disappeared as quickly as it had come. “You must have done something to really piss The Entity off.” He grinned, releasing her small wing and then reaching for the other.

She wriggled away with some difficulty, hopping from his hands to his desk and turning, feathers ruffled in annoyance. “I’m not one of your experiments, Herman.”

“And what a shame that is,” the man replied, amused smile never leaving his face. “But if you were interested in dropping in again later, we could run a few tests. I haven’t worked with miniatures in some time but given the circumstances, I’m sure I can cobble something together.”

“Oh, well if that’s the case, then I definitely will not be back,” she chirped, leaping quickly from the tall piece of furniture and flapping her wings furiously to slow her descent. “Thanks for the heads up, Doc.”

The man tilted his head, wide grin never leaving his face. “Darn,” he said.

It was only when she was out the door that she realized she had forgotten to ask if the man had needed anything. Regardless of this, she felt no urgency to return and double-check.

 

* * *

 

Amanda also seemed endlessly amused by her ordeal, smiling more perhaps than she had seen her smile since entering The Entity’s realm.  

“What happened to you?” She asked, glancing up from the contraption on the table with a grin. Her eyes were bright and her hair pulled back, bangs hanging loosely around her face as she worked. “Have an argument with your best friend?”

She huffed but relented, pleased at least to see the woman smiling for once. “The Entity is not my best friend.”

_How hurtful._

“Friends don’t turn friends into birds, E,” she grumbled as she hopped closer to the woman on the other side of the table. She brought her attention to the other woman, eyes finding the piece of machinery she was working with before looking to the woman herself. “Listen, I’m sure you know the drill by now, just-”

“Just checking in, yeah, I got it,” she said, beating her to the punch. She paused in her actions, giving a sly grin. “But I suppose if you wanted to help, you could pass me that wrench over there.”

“Oh, _that_ wrench?” She asked, cocking her head in the direction of the aforementioned item. “The heavy-looking one that’s about four times my size?”

“That’s the one.”

She paused for a moment, looking at the other woman as she looked at her. She waited for Amanda to laugh, for her to say “just kidding” and reach for the wrench herself.

She exhaled slowly, defeated as she hopped nearer to the edge of her work bench. “I think we both know that I can’t pass you the wrench, Amanda.”

Amanda feigned surprise, lifting one hand to her mouth in an over the top display of what might have been shock. “Oh no, why not?”

“Because I am a very small bird, Amanda.”

Amanda laughed then, a bright sound, and again she found herself grateful that her predicament was able to bring joy to the usually grim woman.

 

* * *

 

“Are any of the survivors even going to understand me?”

_The recluse._

“Oh,” she said. She guessed that made sense.

Jake Park was one of the first survivors The Entity had brought into it’s realm and easily one of the most persnickety. He preferred to spend his time alone, disassembling and reassembling contraptions by himself in the comfort of his own space. Jake was fierce in trials, able to make himself completely silent even when injured and so at peace with nature that the birds -even those within The Entity’s realm- seemed to flock to him, entirely unthreatened.

As she looked up at the tall treehouse, she gave a huff, eyes narrowed.

If climbing the swaying ladder of Jake’s own personal getaway was daunting as a human, it was pure hell for a bird that could not fly.

She slipped, she slid, she tumbled, multiple times she lost her footing and had to wildly beat her wings to avoid injury as she fell. When she finally reached the top, she spent a solid five minutes pecking furiously at the trap door before she came to the conclusion that the treehouse was unoccupied.   

She had huffed, annoyed, carefully descending the rope ladder and hopping from the tree to the survivors’ main house.

This would be so much easier if she could fly.

She found herself hopping around the house, swerving gently around Claudette’s planted flower beds out of politeness, her short legs becoming more irritating the more ground she had to cover.

The house was average sized, she supposed, massive by bird standards but perfect for humans.

Or it would have been, if The Entity would slow down on bringing in new survivors

As she approached the sunroom, she was grateful to find what -or who- she had been looking for. She climbed through a bush that had been planted under the window, leaping easily to the sill and immediately beating her wings against the glass in hopes of grabbing his attention.

“Hey, Jake, let me in!” She warbled, tapping on the glass with her sharp beak.

The man turned to her slowly, a confused look crossing his face. The sun room was bright this time of day, the glass warm under her feathers.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” she chirped loudly, scratching at the glass now with one small foot. “Let me in!”

Jake rose from his chair slowly, eyes trained on her through the tall window. He leaned forward, unlatching the window and allowing it to swing open on its hinges.

“Why aren’t you in your treehouse?” She asked immediately.

“Why are you a bird?” He shot back, bewildered.

“Woah, easy with the personal questions, bud.”

“Funny,” Jake said, his neutral expression suggesting otherwise.

“I had a disagreement with The Entity,” she relented, hopping from the window sill to the back of one of the dark wicker chairs that made up the majority of the room’s furniture. “It happens.” She shuffled closer, eyeing the disassembled bear trap on the table. “Where’d you get that?”

“Found it,” Jake shrugged, nonchalant as he leaned back in his chair.

She considered pressing the issue but thought better of it. If The Entity didn’t want him to have it, he wouldn’t have been able to remove it from the trial area in the first place. “Sure,” she said, hopping to the table in front of him. “Not my business.”

There was a pause, awkward almost.

“Anyway, I was just dropping by to see if the group needed anything. I know you’re not the one I usually ask, but considering I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that can understand me, I just thought- why are you staring at me so hard?”

Jake, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve never seen a shrike in person.”

“You do a lot of bird watching, Jake?”

The man gave a small huff of laughter. “Wouldn’t dream of missing a single crow.” He then paused, moving to prop his feet up on the table beside of her. “And besides, If we needed something how would you even get it to us?”

“What?”

“You weigh, like, what, 2 ounces? How are you supposed to deliver groceries or clothes or-”

She huffed, feathers ruffled in annoyance as she hopped from the table to the chair and then back to the window. “Whatever,” she said, flicking her small, mismatched eyes to the trap on the table then to the man across from it. “Try not to lose a finger.”

 

* * *

 

As she hopped back to her own house later in the evening, she found herself attempting to stifle a wide yawn. The world was a big place for such a small bird.

There was a sudden gust of wind, strong enough to knock her off her clawed feet. She tumbled, giving a startled squawk as she landed on her back in the dirt. She gave another strangled cry of surprise, louder this time, as a bird much larger than herself came down nearly on top of her.

The large crow seemed massive as it leaned over her, it’s bright red eyes a telltale sign that she was dealing with The Entity. Like many she had spoken with that day, The Entity seemed amused.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Oh, have you?” The crow said, pinning her in the dirt with one clawed foot when she tried to roll back to her feet.

She wheezed, struggling for a moment under the larger bird before going still. “E, please.”

“What have you learned, little bird?”

“I’ve learned that whoever or whatever I used to be isn't important.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because whoever I was before I got dragged into all of this is a completely different person than who I am now,” she said, trying and failing to lift her shoulders in what might have been a shrug had she not been pinned down. “And maybe as partners I should express a little more trust towards you.”

“Partners,” the dark bird echoed, cocking it’s head at her with a laugh. “That’s awfully generous.”

“Plus being a bird sucks; everyone makes fun of me and walking places takes forever.”

“There it is,” the crow laughed, moving its sharp toes from her chest and allowing her to roll upright onto her own feet. It grabbed her again then, sudden, wrapping one clawed foot around her easily and then lifting off the ground with a beat of it’s large, dark wings.

She was startled at first, trying to squirm out of the bird’s hold before remembering who she was dealing with. Hadn’t she just made a comment about trust?

As the crow flew through her open bedroom window and sat her gently on her own pillow, it took a few steps back, watching her with its small, bright eyes. “Go to sleep, little bird,” the crow said. “All will be well when you wake up.”

If she was tired before, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. She turned a few times on the pillow, pulling at it with her clawed feet before settling down with her beak tucked under her wing.

As she woke up later that night to the bright moon reflecting through her uncovered window, she was met with the sight of her gently flexing fingers and sighed in relief.

“Thanks, E.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is meant to be read with the last chapter oops. I mean normally I'll release them at the same time if they're supposed to be read together but I've been slacking so
> 
> Also I wanted to call this chapter just The Shrike because that's the bird The Entity turned her into but like I don't know if it would have been clear enough that this was meant to be read with the previous chapter??


	28. Decisive Strike

Two pieces of glass, a piece of metal, and a particularly sharp piece of wood. One after another the items found their way into Max’s back, always at the hand of a survivor and always painful enough to have him crying out.

The trial had been hell for Max, his chainsaw was light in his hands but behind his eyes, a headache pounded.

When Max crossed the threshold between realms to find that his injuries lingered, he grimaced, taking another swig of his moonshine.

As he made his way up the front steps and into the house, he could feel the warm blood soaking into his tattered shirt, the fabric sticking to his back in a way that only served to increase his agitation. He made his way to his room immediately, tearing his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. With his long arms he reached over his head to his shoulders, pressing his fingers to his open wounds with a furious snarl.

He pulled another shirt from the pile on the floor and slung it across his shoulders, hoping that the dark fabric would be enough to hide the wounds until the bleeding stopped.

Max made his way through the house then, venturing into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door. He browsed for a moment, pushing items aside before scowling, stepping away and slamming the door so hard the entire fridge rattled.

Of course there’d be no blackberries.

He sat down at the large table with his head in his hands, hunching his shoulders in a way that he instantly regretted. His wounds continued to bleed, deep and unfettered, soaking into his clean shirt and spreading in a way that had his entire back sticky with blood in what felt like a matter of minutes.

The opening of the front door was an unwelcome sound.

“Oh, hi, Max, how’d your trial go?”

He closed his eyes, pressing fingers to his temples as he hunkered down, forehead nearly to the table.

Never a moment’s peace.

“Are you bleeding? What happened? Let me see.”

He lifted his shirt with a grimace, compliant though annoyed, revealing to her his twisted spine and the puncture wounds that littered his shoulders.

“Oof, Max, that doesn’t look so good,” she said, inspecting the man’s injuries.

Max rolled his shoulders, dislodging her gently roaming hands as he tugged his shirt back into it’s original position. “I know it doesn’t look good,” he said, turning to her with a scowl, the movement further agitating his wounds.

She took a step back, hands hovering still as she frowned. She caught a whiff of something then, alcohol, strong and sharp as it wafted from between his lips. “Ah,” she said. “Been in the moonshine, buddy?”

“What does it matter if I have? It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Of course, of course,” she said, frown still in place as she lowered her hands to her sides.

“Besides, I don’t need your help.”

“And you expect this to -what?- resolve itself?” She asked, verging on frustrated now. “You’re bleeding on the floor, Max.”

“Few things resolve themselves, Hillbilly.” The Entity said, ruffling it’s dark wings as the pair looked over. “I’d take her up on her offer.”

“Oh, thank god you’re here-“

“I’m always here but continue.”

“How about you mind your own business?” Max snarled, suddenly furious as he rose from his seat at the table, his eyes never leaving the crow.

“Okay, what's going on? What am I missing here?” She asked, looking between the two with growing confusion. “And why is Max bleeding so much? Why didn’t you heal him after his trial?”

The crow leapt forward, it’s small bright eyes finding those of Max and holding his gaze. “Yeah, Hillbilly,” the crow said. “Why didn’t I heal you when you left the trial?”

Max snarled, lashing out faster than any of them could have predicted and bringing his fist down like a hammer on the dark bird.

When the bird vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke and a smattering of feathers under his furious fist, the man gave a growl, animalistic in a way that had her taking another step back.

“Max?” She asked, eyes shifting to the fluttering of feathers as the crow reappeared, settling itself on one of her shoulders.

“He killed your teenagers and buried them in the corn.”

She was quiet for a moment as the information sank in. “My teenagers?” She said, eyes widening as the information finally seemed to process. “Max, you did _what?_ ”

Max was silent as he looked at her, eyes and posture both defiant enough to have her second guessing herself.

The man began to speak then, muscles straining as though he had no control over the matter. “I couldn’t help it,” the man said through grit teeth, the edge of the table creaking in protest as he gripped it with powerful fingers. “I went by my old house and found _those teenagers_ and a bunch of graffiti and I just got so mad.”

“Max, _I_ was the one that gave them permission to spend time there,” she said, lifting both hands and pressing her fingertips to her chest. “I didn’t see any problem with it so-“

“But who gave _you_ permission?” Max turned his head sharply to meet her eyes, a sour scowl curling one corner of his lips.

She took a quick step back, as if the thought that Max might be upset had never occurred to her. “What?”

“Who gave you permission to give away my home, huh? Do they even know what it was like to live there? What it was like for me? Did you even tell them?” He rose from his seat then, towering over her in a way that had her taking another step back.

“I didn’t think-“

The man reached forward then, shoving her hard enough that she staggered backwards, her back giving a painful crack against the stairs.

For a moment there was no movement in the room besides Max’s heaving shoulders.

She stood slowly, back crying out in protest from the injury that would surely bruise.

“Listen...wait,” Max began, his face twisted in apology as he reached for her. “I didn’t-“

“Go find Bubba after you sober up,” she said, detaching herself from the conversation as she turned, making her way towards the door. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to patch you up.”

“Where are you going?”

She paused, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob. “To clean up your mess.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take her long to find them, the disturbed ground in the cornfield at the Thompson house exposing easily the four makeshift cemetery plots where the teenagers were buried,

Max was at least thoughtful enough to bury each teenager with their respective limbs, something she was grateful for as she piled them into the wheelbarrow.

As she worked, going from grave to grave and tossing the dismembered pieces in with the others, she spoke aloud to herself, her voice the only sound in the otherwise silent field. “Juuuuulie,” she said at one grave. “Suuuuuusie,” she said at the next. “Jooooooey,” she grunted, hefting the teen’s shredded torso into the bright orange wheelbarrow with a grimace.

She looked to the pile of limbs she had already loaded up and then back to the last disturbed pile of dirt, hesitating. With a shrug, she took the handles of the wheelbarrow and began her brisk pace to the exit gate. “Aaaaand Frank can wait.”

As she crossed the threshold between realms, dirt and corn became ice and snow, picturesque but not quite cold enough to justify the scenery. With a grunt, she dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow, tapping her foot impatiently as the bodies stitched themselves together.

There was a rush of air, deep, a ragged inhale as the trio began to stir all at once. Their eyes opened, groggy almost as they took in their surroundings.

She leaned over the trio, impatient as she tipped the one-wheeled vehicle back and forth. “Get out of my wheelbarrow, I’ve got to go back for Frank.”

The three teens came back to themselves immediately, struggling to disentangle themselves and leaping apart with as much dignity as they could muster.

“What happened to Frank?”

“Same thing that happened to you,” she said, turning and making her way back through the exit gates that would take her to Coldwind, now with the younger three in tow.

“What happened to _us_?” Julie asked, sliding her hands down the front of her leather jacket as she walked, as if to check that she truly was in one piece.

“A chainsaw.”

“Oh,” Susie said. “That’s a new one.”

“Why?” Joey asked. “We weren’t even doing anything this time.”

“Yeah, we were just hanging out.”

She felt bad suddenly, regretful as the four approached the final disturbed plot of land. She wondered how she could have possibly steered the teenagers so wrong. “It was my fault,” she said. “I told you the Thompson house would be a good hangout because I wasn’t counting on the owner coming back.”

“But you said no one lived here.“

“No one does,” she answered, burying the head of the shovel in the dirt and beginning to dig. “I didn’t lie or anything, this place really is abandoned.”

“Then-“

“Listen, Joey, buddy,” she grunted, shoulders slumping as she paused in her digging, forehead pressed to the handle of the shovel. “Do you think I’m trying to prank you here? Do you think I’m out here to have a good time? I made a mistake, okay?” She said, not meeting his eyes. “I thought I was doing a good thing but I was just fucking up.”

“You’re awfully moody tonight,” Julie commented idly, a small grin settling onto her face as she leaned against her own shovel.

“I’ve also spent a lot of time digging up dismembered corpses tonight,” she said. “And stop playing with the shovels if you aren’t going to help me dig.”

“Is everything alright at home?” Julie asked, voice a perfect mimicry of a grade school counselor. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She thought of Max and his bleeding shoulders and her own throbbing back.

“Everything at home is a joy,” she lied easily, deadpan as she stepped carefully into the hole that held Frank’s remains and tossing an arm, bloody and cold and caked with dirt, into the wheelbarrow.

The three teens grimaced, Susie turning away completely with her hand over her mouth as Frank’s bisected torso was pulled from the pile of dirt.

“You guys can head back if you want,” she said, hefting the partial torso into the wheelbarrow and turning, reaching now for the other half. “I’m just about done here.”

“How are you so calm about all this?” Susie asked, her back still facing her as she hurled the eldest teen’s second arm into the one-wheeled vehicle.

“Well this _is_ the fourth body I’ve dug up tonight.”

“No, I mean _this,_ everything in general. The- the blood, the death-“ Susie broke off, distraught as she ran her fingers through her dyed hair. “I just can’t imagine I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Blood is blood, death is death,” she shrugged. “I’m probably not the best one to ask about it. The Entity has done a lot to desensitize me.”

“Oh.”

“Evan could probably give some good tips seeing as he’s been here the longest. I’ll have him talk to you,” she said idly, climbing out of the makeshift grave. She wiped her dirty hands on her pants and took the handles of the wheelbarrow with a grunt, turning the one-wheeled vehicle awkwardly. “Come on, everyone.”

 

* * *

 

She returned home not much later, covered in dirt and grime and aching for a shower and a good night’s rest.

When she opened the door and was met immediately with Max, she froze. She had been expecting a confrontation at some point, of course, but with so little time to process what had happened, she considered turning around and closing the door behind her.

“Hey,” Max said, hesitant and awkward.

“Hey,” She said in return, equally as awkward as she stood, shuffling her feet by the door.

“Listen, I...I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

Max opened his mouth before closing it again, one corner of his lips pulled downwards in a frown.

“But _I_ shouldn’t have handed your house off to the teenagers. I knew things were bad for you there and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you must have felt to see it like that, covered in graffiti and filled with people that could never understand. I’m sorry,” she glanced away, reaching up to scrub idly at her face with one dirty sleeve. “Just, I don’t know, let me get cleaned up and get some sleep. I’ll go back and scrub the graffiti off your home tomorrow.”

“Listen, don’t worry about it. I…” here Max hesitated, as if unsure what to say next. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. They can keep the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” The man said, firm in a way that told her his answer was definitive. “I don’t need that rundown old house anymore; this is my home.”

She smiled at Max then, bright and warm as she moved forward to fold the taller man into a hug. She released him suddenly, pulling away with a frown. “Max, are you still bleeding?”

The large man shrugged his shoulders and then hissed from between clenched teeth, as if somehow just remembering the injuries that had him bleeding in the first place.

She brought one dirty hand to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose before rolling up her sleeves. “Just go grab me a first aid kit, bud.”

As the man left the room, she found herself sighing in exhaustion.

Never a moment’s peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thompson’s Moonshine: A strong beverage made from corn and a recipe passed down in the Thompson's family. Instills rage and headache.
> 
> Just in case anyone is wondering why Max was so damn cranky this chapter.
> 
> Also I hope yall like Legion because I uh, apparently can't stop writing about them. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone actually reads these notes but if there's a character or a scenario yall would like to see more of, drop a comment and I'll figure it out!


	29. Not Feasible

It had begun simply enough; with Jake catching his reflection in one of the old and broken mirrors in one of Lery’s many dilapidated bathrooms. He paused as he inspected the contraption, curious as he leaned forward and tilted his head this way and that. It was heavy, steel, fitted around his head and in his mouth in a way that would leave him tasting metal long after the trial ended. He had gone to work immediately, fiddling with the springs and gears with the miniscule toolkit he always kept on his person.

In the distance, there was the sound of a generator roaring to life. He felt the contraption give a lurch, heard the too familiar ticking of the timer as it began to count down to his demise.

He leaned closer to the broken mirror, the flickering light of the bathroom playing tricks on his eyes as he worked carefully at the trap. And then as suddenly and as quickly as the device had been placed on him, it was gone, lifted above his wild hair and dropped to the tiled floor with a heavy clang.

He pumped his fist in the air, cheering silently, always grateful for the small victories no matter how rare they were.

Now to find a generator to work on...

 

* * *

 

When Amanda turned the corner and saw one of the survivors hunkered down as she worked on the generator and the dark-haired boy fiddling with the trap on her head, she couldn’t help but laugh to herself.

It was against the rules, of course, something she would normally take great offense to, but Amanda knew from experience that a tampered-with trap only served to quicken the wearer’s demise.

But when the trap came off easily under the man’s hands and the device was pulled away from the woman’s long, blonde hair without so much as a snag, Amanda’s mouth had dropped open.

She had heard tales of the saboteur, of course, from Evan who often found his traps in pieces and from the others who often heard the destruction of hooks in the distance. He had never been a problem for Amanda before with her advanced traps and her Hangman’s Trick, but seeing now that he had traversed her offenses left her seething with rage.

When the alarm sounded overhead indicating that the exit gates were now powered, she rose from her crouched position with a scowl.

This had been a mess of a trial.

She waited for him at the exit gate, crouched and hidden, a gamble she knew but one she was willing to make.

The blonde songbird was the first out, her softly curling hair flecked with drying blood as she sprinted past Amanda’s hiding place and crossed the threshold that would bring her to safety. The competitor was next, side clutched in one hand as she too passed through the exit gate, her purple cardigan seeped with gore.

Amanda considered revealing herself for only a moment to pursue the easy kill but thought better of it in the end. While the competitor had played recklessly, cocky in her actions as Amanda gave chase in the trial, she wasn’t the prized pig Amanda was hunting, so to speak.

She darted out quickly when she caught a flash of dark green in her peripherals, snagging the man’s sleeve with fingers steeled by fury.

The saboteur gave a startled yell, pulling hard to dislodge his jacket sleeve from her iron grasp.

“How’d you do it?” Amanda snarled in response, her words muffled but easy to make out through her mask as she dragged the struggling man back towards her. It was then that she caught sight of what he had been trying to hide from her, a flash of silver under one arm that had her seeing red. She howled, furious as she reached for the trap, struggling now to keep the survivor from escaping.

“Let me go!” He yelled, panicked as he turned, grabbing hold of one of the ears on her mask and pulling with a strength that neither of them predicted.

She let go instantly, swearing loudly, both hands coming up to pull her mask back into place.

That was all the man needed as he staggered away from her, trap still clenched in one hand as he bolted to safety.

 

* * *

 

By the time the next trial rolled around, Amanda had nearly put her negative experience with the dark-haired saboteur out of her mind.

That is, until she had no traps left on her belt and the entirety of the trial had gone by without any of her jigsaw boxes being searched.

She had arrived back at her own realm and torn her mask off, pitching it across the room as she screamed.

Amanda flipped tables, sending their contents of paper and tools to the floor as she released another furious yell. She ripped tools from their homes inside metal boxes, shredding papers with fingers shaking from fury.

And then as suddenly as the storm had begun, it was over. Amanda’s shoulders heaved as she breathed, heavy but well on her way to calming herself as she stood in the disastrous midsts of her unhinged fury.

She inhaled deeply, eyes closed and fists still clenched at her sides as she made her way towards the comfort and solitude of her own bed. She pulled her sketchbook and her charcoal pencil from under her pillow where it had remained safe from her rage, and with fingers that still shook, she began to sketch.

Dark hair, dark eyes...

 

* * *

 

When she arrived at the meat packing plant, it was to heavy tables overturned and scattered papers. She grimaced at the sight, hoping that the worst of Amanda’s anger had been worked out in the process of destroying her workspace.

“Amanda?” She called softly.

Amanda rose from her seated position on the bed, setting aside her sketchbook as she stood. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said, voice betraying nothing that would indicate that she was actually pleased to see her. “I need something from you.”

She kept her eyes politely on Amanda, choosing instead to look at the woman instead of the mess that littered the floor. “Sure,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I need you to bring me the saboteur.”

“Bring you the  _ what?” _

Amanda rolled her eyes, impatient. “Dark hair, green jacket, breaks everything he touches? Ring any bells?”

“Oh, that’s…” she trailed off, clicking her tongue. Being a nuisance to killers was something that she knew Jake very much enjoyed. “I know him,” she said.

“Perfect.”

“But I can’t just...bring you a survivor.”

Amanda slammed her hand down on the remaining upright table, the resulting sound resonating loud enough to have the other woman flinching. “Do you think this is a game, Rook? I want the saboteur!”

She winced inwardly at how quickly the mood had shifted, how quickly Amanda had gone from calm to furious. “There are certain rules-”

“Don’t try to preach to me about rules when all of mine have been broken!”

She grimaced. That was a fair point.

“Listen, I just want to go on the record as saying that this is a terrible idea.”

_ Noted. _

 

* * *

 

Jake had followed her easily enough, cocky and full of bravado though his eyes shone with an unspoken anxiety.

“What’s with the owl?” He asked nervously.

The owl twisted its head to face him from it’s position on her shoulder.  _ “I think you have bigger problems to worry about, survivalist.” _

“Ah,” he said.

As they crossed the threshold between realms and the grotesque smell of the meat packing plant hit him, he grimaced, pulling his scarf up to cover his nose and mouth. “What are we doing here?”

She hummed, turning slightly to face the man but never slowing her pace. “Well, you see, Jake, you’ve broken some rules.”

At this, the man seemed puzzled. “Rules?” He stopped, pondering. “Listen, if this is about the things I said to the Clown a couple of trials back, I don’t really see how that constitutes as breaking rules.”

She turned to him fully then, spreading her arms wide. “Does this look like the realm of the Clown, Jake? Think for a second.”

All at once, Jake’s face fell. “Oh shit, the traps.”

“ _ Oh shit, the traps _ is exactly right,” she agreed with a nod. “Honestly, you probably would have been better off breaking The Entity’s rules rather than breaking Amanda’s.”

“Amanda?” The man asked, puzzled again as if the idea that the other side would have human names had never occurred to him.

“Saboteur,” Amanda replied in kind, approaching the pair where they stood. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail as it often was when she was working on something, stray hairs curled behind her ears. Her eyes were hard, narrowed, a frown tugging at her features as she eyed the pair. “Welcome,” she said.

“The names Jake.”

“I don’t care what your name is,” Amanda sneered.

Her workspace had been cleaned up, she noticed, the tables, papers and tools all in their original spots as if nothing had happened at all.

As the three approached -Jake bringing up the rear, much more hesitant than the other two- Amanda turned, pulling a trap from under the table and setting it on the workstation in front of them.

“Break it.”

Jake snorted, incredulous. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter. I said ‘break it.’”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Jake said again, arms crossed as he tipped his chin upwards defiantly.

Amanda rounded the table then, entering the man’s personal space with such purpose that he was forced to take a step backwards to avoid coming nose to nose with the woman. “You really wanna go this route,  _ Jake _ ?”

“Listen, I’m sure there’s a way we can handle this without fighting-“

The owl interrupted her with a hum, it’s feathers catching the fluorescent lighting above and reflecting like a dark pool.  _ “There’s been an incident at Badham.” _

“What? Right now?” She whispered furiously. “What’s going on?”

The Entity laughed, clearly amused by her question.  _ “Four guesses.” _

She pondered this for a moment before catching the meaning, bringing one hand to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Christ, okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just don’t kill him, okay?”

“No promises,” Amanda replied nonchalantly, her gaze shifting from the other woman to the saboteur and then back again.

She rolled her eyes, lifting her hand upwards and waiting patiently for The Entity to step onto it before lowering it onto the table. She then turned, making her way towards the exit gate with a quick wave over her shoulder.

“I don’t like to ask twice, saboteur.” Amanda began again once the other woman had turned the corner, an unkind grin tugging at her lips.

The man was silent for a moment, as if considering something. “Oh, I see what’s happening here.” Suddenly, he smiled, toothy and sly. “You need me,” he said.

“Wrong answer.”

The punch to his stomach was sudden, unexpected, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to double over. He gave a hacking cough, eyes watering as she stood over him, her own eyes narrowed and malevolent.

She knocked him to the ground easily after that, delivering two swift kicks to the man’s stomach that had him crying out in pain. As he curled in on himself, she grabbed his ankle harshly, extending his leg at an angle and then lifting her own foot in turn, her heavy combat boot hovering threateningly over his knee cap as she prepared to shatter it.

Jake struggled to sit up, struggled to pull his leg from Amanda’s grasp, his eyes streaming with tears. “Wait!” He cried. “Wait!”

She crouched down beside of him then, expression bored almost as he struggled to free his ankle. “What was that,  _ Jake _ ?”

“Maybe we can...maybe we can talk this out.”

“Talk?” She echoed, baleful smile curling her lips. “I’m afraid the time for talking is long past,  _ Jake _ .” With her free hand, she slammed the trap down beside his head, twisting the device harshly against the concrete and producing a sharp sound that had Jake flinching under her. “Now are you going to break this trap or am I going to have to break your fucking legs?”

“I’ll do it, okay, I’ll break the trap, just let me up.”

Amanda dropped his leg none too gently and rose from her crouched position, pulling the man up harshly by the back of his jacket as The Entity’s laughter rang through the large room.

He clamored away from her, unsteady on his feet as he scrubbed furiously at his eyes. He approached her work bench with caution, the boy nearly jumping out of his skin as Amanda approached from behind, dropping the heavy trap onto the table with a loud clang.

“Break it,” she said again.

Jake went to work slowly, shoulders hunched strangely as if still in pain. He pulled the small set of tools from his pocket carefully as the woman watched, arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping impatiently.

Jake released a startled cry when he was suddenly shoved down, his face meeting the cold steel of the table as he was bent at the waist with a strong hand pressing between his shoulder blades.

From the opposite side of the workbench, The Entity laughed again, a loud shrill sound that seemed to match it’s current dark visage.

He felt the unfortunate press of metal on his tongue, the weight of a trap being placed on his head as he was allowed to sit up. Jake grunted irritably around the metal in his mouth, reaching up with gloved hands to begin dismantling the device.

Amanda pressed in closer, head tilted in concentration as she watched him work.

Jake’s eyes darted to her anxiously and he turned, awkwardly, shying away from her prying stare.

She dragged him back immediately, one hand curled around the trap on his head as she pulled him back into place. “Where I can see you, saboteur.”

Jake huffed, rolling his eyes now as he continued to fiddle with the trap. There was a click, small, and a minuscule shift of metal that had her squinting her eyes to see. He tilted his head for her, showed her the now stationary gears, no longer a threat as he pulled out another, smaller tool to pick the lock.

Amanda took a step back then, allowing the man to pull the trap over his head and set it on the table. “So, it’s the exposed gears then.”

“I would have talked you through it if you didn’t put the trap on me.”

She grinned at the man, bordering on amused. “No, you wouldn’t have.” She leaned forward then, dragging a piece of paper in front of her and picking up a pencil as she rested her elbows on the table.

“So, you draw, huh?” Jake asked, wandering from his spot near the table and hovering now, just near her bed.

There was a sudden shift in atmosphere that indicated another presence, the change in energy a tangible feeling that had both survivor and killer alike looking towards the entrance of the room. The two watched as she turned the corner quickly, eyes scanning her surroundings as if expecting all hell to have broken loose in her absence.

She gave a sigh of relief as her eyes found the pair, both alive and whole, mingling around the workbench.

“ _ Everything handled? _ ” The Entity asked, it’s eyes bright red and shining with mischief.

“As much as it can be, I guess.”

Amanda turned then, lifting her eyes from the paper she was sketching on to meet her curious gaze. “Welcome back. Get him out of here.”

“Will do. Come on, Jake,” she replied moving to the end of the woman’s workbench and offering her hand to The Entity.

The man gave a nod, hastily shoving something into his pocket before turning and making his way towards her.

“Oh, and Jake?” Amanda asked, not bothering to look up from her work now as the man moved past her.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your hands off my shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my best friend and beta reader whom I love that demanded this chapter be written.
> 
> Title comes from the fact that I kept hollering at him that Amanda and Jake couldn't be BFFs because it just WASN'T FEASIBLE.


End file.
